Planet of Trust
by read2781
Summary: Jacob Hunt visits Annabell Austin in New York and learns about visual impairment and trust.
1. Chapter 1

**Jacob**

After Theo and I testified about how Jess died, the judge cleared all charges. I knew I was never guilty so why there ever was a big trial was beyond me.

The next week, Theo and I went back to school at Townsend Regional High School. School never changed in the time we were away. Students ignored me or treated me like a freak.

A few weeks after the trial ended, I got an e-mail from someone who had read about the case in a newspaper. She lives in Candyville, New York and is very interested in meeting me. Why would a stranger want to meet me, some Aspie from Vermont? She said she is interested in Aspies and wants to learn more about us from interacting, not from books. My mother thinks it would be a good idea for me to go to Candyville and meet this woman.


	2. Chapter 2

**Annabell**

In February of 2012, I read an article about a trial taking place in Vermont. A teen with Asperger's syndrome was charged with murdering his social skills tutor. Evidence pointed to the teen as the actual suspect, but his lawyer was using his Asperger's syndrome as a way for the jury to acquit him. There was much controversy and discussion about the case. I never believed Jacob Hunt really committed the murder. It turns out my suspicion was proven correct.

After the trial, I found contact information for both Jacob and his mother, Emma. I exchanged several e-mails with Emma and Jacob expressing my admiration of him getting through this ordeal. Emma and I began to discuss Jacob's social skills instruction now that Jess was no longer in the picture. She knows I have interest in this area of special education. In fact, she believes Jacob coming to Candyville for a time would be good for him.

We agreed that Jacob would come for a few days at the end of his school year. He would graduate at the end of May and be on a plane to Candyville within days of the graduation. So much to prepare!

In preparing for Jacob's visit, Phyllis and I went to the arts and crafts store to get tubes of super glue for Jacob to fume for prints if his little heart desired. We also found an old fish tank that someone had discarded. I had an old mug that we could heat water in for the humidity necessary for this project. Phyllis gave me a hot plate that provides the heat source in the fuming process.

Food shopping was a bit more challenging.

"Jacob's mother told me he is on a special diet, gluten/casein free. I have no idea if Topp's even has food that will meet his requirements."

"We can ask the customer service reps and see. Otherwise, we can go to Wegman's. They have everything," Phyllis reassured me.

We were in luck! Topp's had a large section that contained all the foods we would need for Jacob's visit. What a relief. Now, the next challenge is to find foods to match all the color requirements. I won't bore you with all the details of our food shopping extravaganza.

Before Jacob's visit, I received a wallet sized senior photo so I would recognize him at the airport. The photo showed a young man about 6 feet tall with military short brown hair. He is not looking at the camera. He's wearing a dark blue shirt that has no designs or prints on it.

I also received information from Emma regarding Jacob's shot and supplements. He takes several different supplements as well as a B12 shot. All of this is designed to help mitigate the symptoms associated with his Asperger's diagnosis. Emma reassures me that I won't have to do anything in regards to the shot and supplements. Jacob knows the dosages and when to take them. I'm relieved because I have enough to remember with my own meds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jacob**

May 26 was a day I will never forget. I travelled on a plane for the first time without my mother.

My bags were packed with all my CrimeBusters notebooks and supplements I would need for the entire week I'd be gone. I've also packed a weighted blanket for those times when there is too much stimulation and I need the pressure to relax. Mom also said that it's nice to bring a gift for the person you're staying with. I decide to give Annabell a book describing the basics of forensic science.

Touch down at last!

As soon as I get off the plane, I see this lady with a white stick. What's that for?

"It's so good to meet you, Jacob." Annabell says.

"Henry Lee is the most well known forensic scientist. He's worked on the Lacey Peterson case."

"I didn't know that. Do you have any luggage?"

"Yes, a red suitcase.

As we're walking away from the gate, I see her unfold a stick.

"What's that stick?

"I'm visually impaired and use it to help me navigate my environment."

"Mom never told me you're visually impaired. I thought blind people couldn't do anything."

"You'll see. There are lots of things we can do."

Mom never told me she was visually impaired. How's that going to work with crime scenes? She probably can't see anything. How will she analyze latent prints or Galton ridges?

"Jacob, this is my friend Phyllis."

"It's nice to meet you, Jacob. I've heard a lot about you from Annabell. It sounds as though you're a real CSI."

"The word forensic comes from the Latin _forensis,_ which means "before the forum." In Roman times, a criminal charge was presented in front of a public group in the forum. The accused and the victim would give testimony, and the one who had the best argument would win.

"I didn't know that, Dr. Hunt," Phyllis said.

"I'm not a doctor!"

When we arrived at her apartment, I was shown to my bedroom where I'd be staying for the next few days. It was a room about the size of my room at home. On the bed was a bag of Superglue, an old fish tank, and all the other supplies I'd need to fume for prints. I was already getting excited. I've never visited anyone who had all the crime scene supplies there.

After unpacking, Annabell comes into my room and tells me that Mom is on the phone.

"Hi, Mom. I got here safely."

"How was the flight?"

"Fine. I sat next to a guy who was a former FBI agent so we spent the whole time talking about forensics. He knows Henry Lee and promised to get me an autographed book. How cool is that!

"That's wonderful. How are things with Annabell?"

"She's blind. How come you didn't tell me that before?"

"Didn't I?"

"No, you didn't. How will she do anything if she can't see?"

"Jacob, she has reassured me that you will be fine in Candyville. She has some vision so she is not completely blind. She can explain better than me how much and what she can see."

"If she's not completely blind, then there must be a mistake. If someone has difficulty seeing, then it must mean the person has no vision. How can Annabell still have vision yet not have perfect vision?"

"Jacob, Annabell can explain this much better than I can. For now, just realize there are many variations of visual impairment."

"But, I want to create crime scenes with her. How will she solve crime scenes if she can't see? Forensics is visual. I don't know any blind forensic scientists. Blind people can't do anything!"

"Jacob, listen to me. This is not something you tell a blind person. It will hurt their feelings if they think you believe they can't do anything. It's the same as a person at your school calling you retarded. You know how you hate it when someone calls you retarded?"

"Yes."

"Blind people feel the same way when sighted people tell them they can't do anything. Try to remember this when you're talking to her or other blind people she may introduce you to. I love you."

"Hasta la vista, baby."

I suppose Mom is right when she tells me that blind people can do things, but what exactly will she be able to do in a forensic analysis? Forensics is so visual. There are no ways to adapt finger prints or blood spatter patterns.

At that moment, Annabell knocks on my door.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure.

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that you were surprised about my visual impairment. I know how important it is for you to know things ahead of time. I'll try and keep you informed of plans ahead of time. If we have to change plans, I'll try and let you know in plenty of time for you to adjust to the change. Before we do anything though, do you have questions about what I can and can't see?"

"Yes. How will you analyze fingerprints?"

"I won't be able to analyze fingerprints. I can't see the Galton details because they are too small for me. In order to see the Galton details, they would have to be magnified quite a bit."

I've never met anyone who knows specific forensic terms. Maybe that will cancel out the fact that she's blind. If she knows about forensics, this must mean she's smarter than I originally thought. Not many people know something as specific as Galton details. I decide to quiz her over the course of my visit and see just how much she knows about forensics.

"How do you know about Galton details?

"I've done my homework. I might know a lot about forensics that will surprise you."

"I'm not your teacher and never assigned you homework."

"I know, Jacob, but it's what people say when they've learned about a topic in preparation for an event or conversation."

"No one else I interact with knows about forensics. Since you want to know if I have questions about your vision, tell me what you can see."

Annabell is a short woman with dark brown hair. Much to my relief, her hair is short and doesn't fall around her shoulders like other women I know. I hate loose hair.

She's wearing a red and white striped shirt, which thoroughly annoys me. I can't handle striped patterns because you don't know whether it's red and white stripes or white and red stripes. I'm tempted to say something but decide not to. Maybe she will change if she sees my discomfort.

"Well, I see that you have short brown hair and are wearing a yellow shirt. If there's writing on the shirt, I can't read what's written there because it's in squiggly font. I can only read block letters that are san serif. You're wearing a pair of blue jeans and white tennis shoes. Your suitcase is red."

"Wow, I'm surprised! I didn't think you'd be able to see anything. I thought people who were blind had no vision. How come you use the stick then?"

"First of all, it's not a stick. It's a white cane. Don't worry about that mistake though. Everyone who's unfamiliar with the terminology calls it a stick in the beginning. I use the cane in order to detect obstacles ahead of me. If the cane taps something on the right side of me, I know that I need to move a little to the left. The cane won't detect overhanging objects like tree limbs though."

"That's neat. Can anyone use a cane?"

"No, Jacob. Only people who are blind or visually impaired are permitted to use the cane."

"Mom said you e-mailed her. How do you use the computer if you can't read my shirt?"

"I use a program called JAWS…"

"Oh, like the shark," I interrupt quickly. "You must have a powerful computer if it has a shark inside it."

"No, it doesn't have a shark," Annabell laughs. "JAWS is a screen reader that reads anything that's on the screen. It's an acronym that stands for Job Access With Speech. If you want, I can show you how it works."

"Sure, but I want to give you something first."

I dig in my suitcase and find the gift. I hand it to Annabell who rips off the paper so quickly that it sends me into hypersensitivity. Why didn't Mom tell her about my dislike of crumpling paper? I'm cowering and have my hands over my head. That sound!

"Jacob, what's wrong?"

"You…crumpled…the paper. I can't handle that sound."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't know that. I won't do that again.

"Will you be able to read it?

"I don't know, I'll have to check."

"I hope you like it. It's a great book," Jacob says.

"Thank you, Jacob. That was really thoughtful of you. I'm sure I'll enjoy it. Come out to the kitchen with me so I can check on dinner."

"What's for dinner?"

"Well, since it's Wednesday, and it's a yellow day, we have cheesy mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and corn bread. For dessert, Phyllis has made a pineapple upside down cake. My mother is also coming and bringing yellow plates, plastic ware, and napkins. Come out to the kitchen so I can check on things."


	4. Chapter 4

**Annabell**

After Jacob's Visual Impairment 101 lesson, he surprises me with a gift. I'm so surprised that I quickly tear off the paper as is my custom when opening gifts. He's cowering next to me so I stop to see what's wrong. He explains that he can't handle paper crumpling. Mental note. Don't crumple paper in Jacob's presence.

I lift out the book and see it's a forensics text. Great! Just what I want to read. I'm not the CSI guru. That guru is sitting next to me. Maybe I can re gift this to someone later.

"Will you be able to read it?

"I'm not sure. I'll have to check the print size."

I glance at the title and see it's written in big print. I read the title to Jacob, "The Forensic Casebook." This still doesn't mean that I will be able to read the contents. I glance at the text and discover it's in 10 point font. I know I won't be able to read it because I can only read print that's 24 point or bigger. What to do? Tell Jacob I can't read it or pretend that I can? Either way might have negative consequences. He might want me to read some of the text. Or, he might have a negative reaction if I can't read it.

This is eerily similar to those years in middle school when I wanted to pass as a sighted person. It would be easy to answer that question if I was that age. I'd pretend to read the text and make Jacob think I was sighted. As an adult, I know that's an impractical way to handle this situation. I still don't know what to do even with my reflections on the past. I decide to dodge the question for now.

"Come on, let's see how dinner's cooking."

"What's for dinner?"

"It's a yellow feast because today is Wednesday. I know it's a yellow day for you."

We meander out to the kitchen. I could sense Jacob watching me very closely as I navigate my home.

"What are you thinking about?"

"How can you navigate without the sti…er…cane?"

"It's simple. When I know the environment, I know where obstacles are and can avoid them. I also have enough vision to see some obstacles ahead and on the left side."

"But, at the airport, you were moving the cane back and forth. Why?"

"It's so that I make sure I check for obstacles on both sides. It's called 2 point touch."

At the mention of 2 point touch, Jacob touches me on the left and right and points to my chest.

"What on earth?"

"2 point touch," he explains.

"Oh, Jacob. No, it's not…no…it's a technique. It's only called 2 point touch."

I can tell Jacob is really trying to mull this over and becoming more and more confused. I think it will take time and more exposure for him to fully understand it. Even then, with his Asperger's, I'm not sure how much further we will be able to take his understanding.

We reach the kitchen, and I open the oven to check the cornbread. My stomach is growling. I poke a fork in the bread, and it comes out clean. One part done.

Jacob is standing close by. I can sense he's watching me intently.

When I pull out the bread, he speaks.

"How do you know the bread is done?"

I explain how when I inserted a fork into the bread, the fork came out clean.

"But if you can't see what's around you, how can you see if a fork is clean?"

I sigh. This is getting too complicated. I decide to ignore the question. I think it's a wise idea for an optometrist, my optometrist, to explain low vision in a scientific and clinical manner. I get the impression that Jacob can only handle explanations if they are clinical.

I then check the pasta by tasting a noodle. The pasta is done so I remove that from the stove. Next, I check the potatoes by poking a fork in them. They are also done so I dump the water into the sink. Before I can get to the sink, Jacob speaks.

"The sink is right in front of you."

I'd like to strangle him right about now. I know where the sink is because I've lived here for a few years. He must think I'm a bafoon, not knowing where items are in my own home.

"Jacob," I say calmly, "I know where my sink is. I've dumped stuff into the sink everyday for years."

"Well, I figured you wouldn't be able to see it and couldn't use your cane to find it with the pot in your hands."

"Jacob," I say trying to remain calm. "I don't need to use my cane in my home as I've already told you. It's like a forensic scientist being familiar with his or her laboratory. He or she can navigate the lab in the dark because he or she knows where all the tables, cabinets, and other equipment are located. My kitchen is as familiar to me as Dr. Henry Lee's forensic lab is to him."

At that moment, the doorbell rings.

"Come in," I shout from the kitchen.

Phyllis arrives with a massively large, and massively yellow, cake. I can tell Jacob is getting excited because of all that yellow.

"How did she know today is a yellow day? I like her already."

"Phyllis and I had many conversations before your arrival to prepare for this visit."

"It's nice to see you again, Jacob. I never did properly introduce myself. I'm Phyllis Lee…"

"You're related to Henry Lee?"

"I have no idea who Henry Lee even is. I was Annabell's vision teacher for 16 and a half years back in North Dakota," she says fondly.

"It took 16 and a half years for you to teach Annabell how to see?" Jacob inquires.

"Oh no," I say quickly. "Vision teacher is just the common, less professional, term for teacher of the visually impaired. You know how CSI is short for 'crime scene investigator?' Well, that's the same here. Phyllis wouldn't say that she was a teacher of the visually impaired unless she was writing a document for others. Just like Henry Lee wouldn't say he's a crime scene investigator unless he was signing documents. CSI and vision teacher are just easier."

"I guess that makes sense, but why use 'vision teacher?' It gives the wrong idea. It makes people think you're teaching someone to see. No wonder communicating with you neurotypicals is tough. Mean what you say!"

Phyllis and I laugh quietly. "He has a point," she says. "I guess I should have used the professional term when introducing what I do. I never thought of that."

The next person to arrive is my mother.

"Jacob, meet my mother, Donna Austin. She's the safety Nazi in my life."

"She can't be a Nazi. World War II ended in 1945 with the Germans surrendering to the Ally powers. Hitler committed suicide that same year. If this person is a Nazi, I hope she doesn't gas me with T-4 gas because of my diagnosis. Many people with disabilities were gassed with T-4 gas in the concentration camps."

"Jacob, she's not really a Nazi. I promise. She just takes safety very seriously. 'Safety Nazi'" is just something I say when I tease her.

"How was your afternoon after we got back from the airport?" Phyllis asks.

"Oh, it was relaxing," I say. "We discussed what I could and could not see. I think that will take some time for Jacob to fully understand. Perhaps I need to be more scientific about it and less practical. I really don't know at this point."

"Have you used a simulator to show him what you see?" Mom asks.

"No because I'm not sure if that's a good idea. He's so literal as you saw so I'm not sure using a simulator would be a good idea. I think verbal description might be better. We have a week to figure this out."

"That makes sense," Mom says.

"He also began to ask about my computer, but we haven't had a chance to look at it in depth. He thinks I have a shark living with me."

"A shark, but…I don't get it," Mom muses.

"You know how the screen reader is called JAWS? Well, think about it. The shark in the movie is also called JAWS."

"Oh duh. Makes sense! Big red fire truck!"

At that moment, Jacob looks out the window and says, "There are no fire trucks around here. We would have heard sirens."

"I know," I say smiling. "It's a saying that one of my students uses when something is painfully obvious. She uses it because, like whatever she's discussing, a big red fire truck is obvious to anyone who is looking."

"That's so strange," Jacob muses.

"I suppose it is strange, but I like it."

As we're eating, I can sense Jacob watching me. At one time, he asks,

"How do you know where your food is?"

Inwardly, I sigh. How am I ever going to help him understand that people who are blind or visually impaired are normal people? It will take time, effort, and plenty of patience. Emma never told me he'd watch me so closely. I suppose though, with his knowledge of forensics and desire to be a CSI, I should have been prepared for scrutiny.

"I just…know," I say.

"You know? But if you can't see what's on your plate, how would you know?"

"That's one thing vision teachers teach their students," Phyllis explains. "We teach students how to identify food tactually and visually if the student has enough vision. We also teach students how to locate food on their plate, typically using the clock method. Basically, that means students are oriented to the positioning of their food based on an analog clock."

"So, there are clocks on your plates?" Jacob muses.

"No, Jacob. Since the plate is round, we compare it to a clock. For instance, we might say that the potatoes are at 6:00 if they are in front of the person. The macaroni and cheese is at 3:00 if it's on the person's right. The water glass is at 12:00 if it's away from the person. The fork is at 9:00 since it's to the person's left. Other food might be placed at different clock numbers if that was the case. Does that make sense?"

"I think so. It sounds like a gunner being told where an enemy plane is located. 'Enemy coming at 3:00, sir.'"

"Exactly!"

We eat quietly for a few more minutes. Jacob speaks again.

"You never answered my question about reading the forensic book.

Oh no. Here it is again, what to do. Tell the truth or dodge the question. I know I can't dodge the question forever.

"Well, Jacob, I don't know if I will be able to read it for a long period of time. I can read some print if it's the right size. Unfortunately, the print in the forensics book is tiny. Don't worry though. There are ways for me to read it without using vision. I'll just have to see if the book is available in these formats. And if it's not, well, I can always scan it into my computer and have JAWS read it."

"Sharks can't read," Jacob says.

"I know," I laugh. "You'll see what JAWS is later."

Shortly after dinner, we get another visitor, Michelle and her Seeing Eye dog Yukon.

"Come in," I shout when the doorbell rings. "We're in the kitchen."

"Hi, Annabell," Michelle says.

"Michelle, meet Jacob, the world's foremost expert on dogs," I say teasingly.

"Hi, Jacob. It's nice to meet you," she says kindly.

"No matter the breed, your dog has 321 bones and 42 permanent teeth. Dogs can also smell the presence of autism in kids. I wonder if your dog can smell my Asperger's."

"I didn't know that about the bones, nor did I know that about autism," Michelle says. "You're amazing."

"I'm not amazing. I just know a lot of stuff."

As we're talking, Yukon is sniffing Jacob as any dog would sniff a new person or a person he likes. He's begging for attention. Jacob hasn't acknowledged him yet, but I can sense it's close. Yukon is still wearing his harness. At that moment, Jacob reaches down and begins stroking Yukon.

"Please don't pet him," Michelle says nicely but firmly. "He's still working."

"But he's not doing anything," Jacob argues.

"No, but until the harness is removed, he's still a working dog."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard! A dog working when he's not moving or doing anything physical."

"Do you want to explain that to him, or would you like me to?" Michelle asks me quietly.

"No, I'll do it."

"Michelle's dog is a special kind of dog. He guides her from point A to B and guides her around obstacles. You know how my cane hits obstacles? Well, Yukon avoids those obstacles. When you see a guide dog in harness, one of the most important rules is not to pet the dog. It will distract him from what he's supposed to be doing. You also may not call out to the dog when he's wearing the harness. As soon as Michelle removes it though, you may interact with Yukon as much as you'd like, with Michelle's permission of course."

"Why don't you have a dog? I'd think that would be easier than the cane," Jacob muses.

"That's a good question, and one I get asked often. I used to have a guide dog, but for reasons that are too complicated to get into, I decided to retire her last year. Other people choose to work with a guide dog because they like the ease of movement the dog provides. Still others rely on another person to provide assistance from point A to B."

"I guess that makes sense. I know cops have dogs, and they are really smart. I bet your dog is just as smart as a police dog."

"Some days, he is," Michelle says. "Other days, well, he's a dog. He once ate half a loaf of bread from the counter at a friend's home. Boy did he get sick after that!"

"Yeah, I remember my dog did something like that too," I recall fondly. "I was at a conference with a coworker when we were walking through the lunch line. Julia reached up and grabbed an entire sub off the table. I was so mad!"

"I remember that," Michelle says laughing. "Boy were you mad!"

As we're talking, Michelle has removed the harness but not the leash.

"Feel free to pet him, Jacob. It's OK now that the harness is off."

At that moment, Jacob kneels by Yukon and begins petting him. Yukon, like any Lab, gets excited with all the attention. He licks Jacob's face, which causes him to jump back in alarm.

"Is everything OK?" Michelle asks.

"Your dog…licked me. It was a surprise, that's all."

"Pfui, Yukon!"

"Dessert's ready," Phyllis calls.

"Sit," Michelle commands, and like a good dog, Yukon instantly obeys.

"What's for dessert?"

"Pineapple upside down cake."

"Why that? Sounds strange for just a meal with friends."

"Since today is Wednesday, everything in Jacob's culinary world and wardrobe is yellow. It's one of the traits of his Asperger's. He is dependent upon a structured routine."

"Are you sure you'll be able to handle this?"

"I think so," I say hesitatingly.

"Well, I sure hope so."


	5. Chapter 5

**Jacob**

Today has been a day I won't forget. I flew alone for the first time. Then I met someone who is visually impaired. I never thought a visually impaired person could do anything. Townsend is so small that I never saw anyone who is visually impaired in the town. I never even thought of this disability.

Annabell's mom comes over for dinner bringing yellow plates and silverware. It's nice to know others understand my need for routine.

After Michelle leaves, we move into the living room. Annabell boots up her computer. Almost immediately, I hear this strange voice from within talking so quickly. How does she understand it?

"Jacob, what you're hearing is JAWS."

"Wow, I didn't think it talked that fast!"

"I can adjust the speed, but since I've used it for 13 years, I can understand it at a high rate of speed. It's like sighted people reading at 300_ words per minute."

As she is explaining this, she's opening a program, but she's not using the mouse.

"Bill gates developed Windows so that people wouldn't have to input text to execute commands. People who use Windows use the mouse because it's faster than the keyboard. Steve Jobs actually was the first person to develop a graphical user interface," I say.

"I know, but I can't see the screen so have to use the keyboard. There are commands in JAWS so that I can do anything a sighted person would do on his or her computer. Watch."

As she's explaining this, she is quickly typing something on the keyboard. A window opens that shows e-mail messages. JAWS is still talking at an incredibly fast rate. I have no idea what it's even saying so how she understands it is beyond me.

"Oh, here's an e-mail from your brother."

"Hi, Jacob. Hope everything is going well in Candyville. Mom is doing well and asked me to send this e-mail as a way for Annabell to demonstrate how she uses her computer. Theo"

"See, Jacob? Whenever I get an e-mail or do something else on the computer, JAWS will read it out loud. I can even change the voice if I want although the different voices are worse than the default voice."

She shows me the different voices, but each one is worse than the one before. By the end of this demonstration, my head is spinning with the horrible sound. I have to get away. I disappear into my room until I think the sound is stopped. Even then, I'm not sure because I still hear things coming from the computer. By the time she realizes I'm gone, I'm under the weighted blanket and "I Shot the Sherriff" is playing on my iPod.

"Jacob?" I hear. "JACOB! Where are you?"

I'm not sure if she's going to use that horrible sounding speech again so I don't respond. It's better to remain hidden while that awful sound is playing. I hear footsteps coming softly down the hall until she stops at my door.

"Is everything OK?" Annabell asks quietly.

"Mmmm…maybe," I mumble.

"What's wrong?" she asks gently.

I've never heard anyone, except Jess, talk in such a gentle tone. It makes me feel good.

"Your computer's sound," I mumble.

"My computer's sound?"

"Yeah, your computer's sound sent me over the top. It was too much for me so I had to get away."

"Can you describe why it sent you over the top?"

"It just did. The sound was just…different and strange."

"I'm so sorry. I'll try and not use the computer when you're around. If you want though, we can try a shorter exposure after you've had more sleep. Maybe it's the long day of travel and meeting new people that caused the over reaction."

"We can try, I guess."

"Do you want to come out and keep me company while I clean up?"

"Sure if you promise the computer won't speak."

"I can make that happen."


	6. Chapter 6

**Annabell**

After everyone leaves, I decide to show Jacob JAWS. I know there will be an e-mail waiting for him because his mom told me it would be coming. I figure that will be a good way to demonstrate how JAWS reads a simple document.

I boot the computer up, and JAWS begins speaking at its usual rate. Oh no! I forgot it was so fast! Of course, Jacob won't understand it. Oh well. We can change it later if necessary.

Once the computer is booted up, I explain how JAWS works. Jacob spits out some facts about Bill Gates and Steve Jobs being the first people to develop the GUI. I know all of this, but try and explain that there are ways for blind people to use a GUI even with the keyboard. Jacob is very skeptical. I'm not surprised because I know I'm the first person who is visually impaired he's seen.

As I'm changing the voices to demonstrate the different options, I feel Jacob begin to shake. I have no idea what's going on so continue with the demonstration. Hindsight is 20/20. I should have stopped when I first felt the shaking and asked what was wrong. I didn't think about it then. As I continue the demonstration, I sense the empty chair next to me.

"Jacob? JACOB!"

I'm getting worried, but try to stay calm. I haven't heard any doors open or close so think he's still in the house. I slowly walk through each room looking in beds or on chairs or even in the bathtub. I'm not missing anything in this search. Eventually, I reach the guest room and see a different blanket on the bed and an iPod nearby. I gently touch Jacob's shoulder, but he jumps a mile!

"Is everything OK?" I ask quietly."

"Mmmm, maybe."

As we're talking, Jacob is slowly removing the weighted blanket and pushing it to the side. We talk about how the computer's sound has pushed him over the top. He can't explain it, but I think I understand. When I was 3 years old, I had a similar reaction when a technology teacher demonstrated the old Kurzweil reading machine. It was a big loud voice coming from inside a strange box. I began to cry and couldn't be calmed. Mom had to take me away from the classroom until I was calmer.

"Come out to the kitchen and keep me company while I clean up," I encourage brightly.

Jacob agrees, and we meander back out to the kitchen. I begin cleaning up our mess from dinner. It's a lot of leftovers and other goodies to put into the fridge. We're set for a week with food…except that yellow days only come once a week. What will we do with all this yellow food!


	7. Chapter 7

**Jacob**

The next morning, Annabell tells me that we're going to her former workplace for a tour. She knows a lot of people there so has arranged this tour. She hopes this will help me better understand visual impairment. I'm not sure what she's hoping for.

We take a bus to the place we're going, and it's not too bad. I'm used to city buses because, even in Townsend, there are city buses. The driver knows Annabell and even knows where she has to get off. That's amazing. Drivers in Townsend wouldn't do that for people. You'd have to pull a little cord to tell the driver to stop. Maybe being visually impaired has its perks.

We arrive at our destination, and Annabell begins to explain this is where she once worked. She tells me she was a technology teacher here and had lots of different students. We walk inside, and immediately, the receptionist greets her.

"Hi, Melvin. This is my friend Jacob," she says.

"Hi, Jacob. It's nice to meet you."

"There are two types of DNA that forensic scientists use in identifying the remains of individuals. Nuclear DNA comes from both parents. Mitochondrial DNA only is inherited from the mother. Nuclear DNA is the most commonly used DNA for identification of human remains. Mitochondrial DNA often times is used to identify older remains."

"I didn't know that," Melvin said.

I glance to my right and see Annabell's face is bright red. Why would her face be red? It's not cold outside. It's actually comfortable for a change.

"We're supposed to meet Kevin for a tour," she says.

"Sure thing. I'll call him and have him come up here to meet you guys."

Minutes later, Kevin approaches. He's a tall guy with dark hair and deep brown eyes. Annabell tells me he was her orientation and mobility teacher when she first moved here.

"What's orientation and mobility?" I ask.

She doesn't answer right away but talks with Kevin for a few minutes giving him an update on what she's been doing over the past few weeks. It gets old real fast. Small talk has never been one of my strengths. I don't get why neurotypical people talk about stuff they really don't even care about. Who cares about sports scores, the weather, or the price of whatever. I'd much rather talk about forensics!

"Jacob, it's nice to meet you," Kevin says.

"Everyone has unique Galton ridges on their fingers. As a result, even identical twins have different fingerprints."

"I think my wife told me that once. She works in the criminal justice system."

My eyes light up at the mention of this.

"She's a forensic scientist? Can I meet her?"

"No, Jacob. She's a counselor."

As we're talking, Kevin is leading us further inside the building. He begins to explain what this agency does, and it sounds interesting. I don't think there's a place like it in Townsend.

We stop outside a door that has Sara Smith, Social Work Team Leader on its label. Sara comes out to meet us. She hugs Annabell and asks her about what she's been doing over the past few weeks. Not again!

"Sara, this is my friend Jacob. He'll be visiting for a few days."

"Nice to meet you, Jacob. I've heard about you."

There are 4 different types of fingerprints, exemplar prints, latent prints, plastic prints, and patent prints. Exemplar prints are those collected from an individual, such as if a criminal is arrested for a crime. Latent prints are those prints that are collected at a crime scene with dusting powder. Plastic prints are friction ridge impressions that retain their shape in a surface, such as wet clay. Patent prints are prints that are able to be seen with the naked eye. These prints are left when an individual's fingers come into contact with a foreign material such as ink.

"I didn't know that, Jacob," she says. "You must know a lot about crimes." She laughs.

"Not crimes, just the forensic science."

"Well, if I ever am involved in a crime, I hope you're the CSI in charge of my case."

"Jacob is struggling to understand visual impairment," Annabell says. She tells Sara about the previous evening.

"My role is to help people adjust to the loss of vision and deal with the emotional aspects of visual impairment. We have support groups at the agency that enable individuals to talk with others in similar situations. It's very helpful for some. There's even adaptive technology for people who are visually impaired, but Annabell is more qualified to explain this than I am."

"I know. She showed me her computer, but I don't know how someone could handle that sound. It's too much."

After our conversation with Sara, Kevin leads us on. He explains about the kitchen where people learn to cook as well as the library where books in different reading media are shelved. We stop at the technology center. Annabell seems to know everyone in this area!

"Hi, Annabell. It's Caleb. How are you?"

"I'm doing well. This is my friend, Jacob. He's visiting me from Vermont."

Inwardly, I cringe. If there's going to be more small talk, I might as well find Dr. Lee and talk about the OJ Simpson case. Annabell senses my feeling and quickly moves onto the main topic in Caleb's area.

"I showed Jacob my computer last night, but it didn't go well." She describes my reaction.

"I've heard of that reaction before," he says. "It will take time for Jacob to get used to the sound. You're doing the right thing by exposing it to him in small increments."

After Caleb demonstrates other technology like screen magnification software and a scanning program, we move on.

The next stop is an office that has "Orientation & Mobility written on the door. This is where Kevin works. He then goes onto explain the field of orientation and mobility.

"O&M was once called parapetology, which is the study of foot travel. Some older practitioners still refer to the field by its original name, but all the university programs call it orientation and mobility now."

He goes on for awhile describing how students learn to use the cane and other skills to orient them to their environments. I wonder just how much of this training Annabell has had. We all know my orientation isn't very good. I needed a simplified map to my social skills lessons with jess so that I could get there with confidence.

After our tour, we go to the cafeteria for lunch. It's Thursday so it's a brown food day. I hope these people know that. If they don't serve brown food, I don't know what I'll do.

I glance at the menu as we're in line and see there's salsberry steak, mashed potatoes, and several types of veggies. I've had salsberry steak so know it's brown. I'm relieved that at least there is something brown on the menu. We each get a tray and order our food. At the cashier, Annabell asks for 2 mint chocolate ice cream sandwiches. That sounds great! Mint chocolate and ice cream is a perfect combination. Plus, it's brown!


	8. Chapter 8

**Annabell**

After our lunch is finished, I decide it's nice enough to walk home from the agency. It's sunny and cool so I think a walk would do us both good. I mention this to Jacob, and he doesn't say anything for a moment. I can feel the wheels turning in his head.

"You mean, you know how to walk home from here?"

"Yes. I do it all the time. Trust me, it's a simple route."

"OK, if you say so. I hope we don't get lost."

"Trust me, we won't get lost. I know the route."

"Is Kevin coming with us since he's your teacher?"

"No, Jacob, he has other students. He knows I can execute the route perfectly so there's no need for him to come."

"She's right," Kevin pipes up. "I've seen her walk home from here, and she does it beautifully. Besides, there are no turns. It's a straight shot from here to her home."

"OK, if you both are sure."

We clean up our mess, say good bye to Kevin, and begin our walk. Before we reach the first intersection, I explain to Jacob how I know when it's safe to cross the street.

"If there is traffic going in front of me, then I won't cross. I rely on the parallel traffic to know when it's safe. You'll see sighted people who don't follow the rules, but they're taking their lives into their own hands. I also will wait until the beginning of a traffic cycle before crossing at a lighted intersection. It's never wise to cross in the middle of a cycle, even if the light is green."

We begin our 1.6 mile walk and things are going better than I could have hoped. The weather is crisp and cool, perfect walking weather. Crossing streets is as easy as pie, which sometimes isn't the case on this route. Many times, other pedestrians will call out to me and tell me it's safe when, clearly, it's not safe. I ignore them and go with my own judgment.

At one point on the route, another friend stops me to say hi. She was a former coworker in the adaptive technology center, Olivia.

"Hi, Annabell," she calls out. "It's Olivia."

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm doing well. Who's your friend?"

"This is my friend, Jacob. He's visiting for a few days from Vermont."

"Hi, Jacob. Nice to meet you."

"Parapetology is the study of foot travel," Jacob responds. My face turns beat red. Not this again!

"I didn't know that. Where did you learn that?"

"Kevin told me.:

"How long will you be in Candyville?"

"Until next Wednesday."

"Let's get together sometime. I'll call you."

"Sounds good," I reply.

The route is going well until we reach the intersection of Cherry Lane and Smarty Street. This is a busy lighted intersection with 5 lanes of traffic. This intersection has been described as an X intersection, which makes it much more difficult. It's imperative to fully concentrate at this crossing.

As Jacob and I are standing at the corner, and I'm assessing the traffic cycle, a woman walks up behind me. The light is obviously red, but there are some breaks in the traffic.

"You can go now," she says.

I don't say anything because my attention is on the traffic.

"I said, you can go," she says impatiently.

"I don't cross unless traffic is moving the same direction I'm moving," I patiently explain.

"I said it's safe." She says.

"Blind people listen to the traffic sounds and only move when the traffic is going in the same direction the person is travelling," Jacob explains.

"How do you know? You're not blind," she says.

"No, but I have a good teacher."

This lady just won't move on. Suddenly, she grabs my arm, when the light, clearly, still is not in our favor. I plant my feet and refuse to move. Jacob stands there open mouthed and not saying anything.

"Get your hand off me, please," I say.

"But it's safe to cross," she insists. "I'm only trying to help."

"Actually, you're not helping me at all. Please leave us and let me make the safest decision."

"Fine, but blind people shouldn't be travelling on their own. It's wonderful that you have this nice sighted young man to take care of you."

By the time she has left, I'm thoroughly unsure where the traffic is in the cycle. Jacob is standing next to me obviously confused and bewildered.

"Why did she say that about the 'nice sighted young man'?" he asks.

"Sighted people who don't know about what blind people can do will think that we need sighted people with us at all times."

After a moment to collect myself, I step up to the intersection and begin the process all over again. Jacob is standing next to me.

I'm not able to visually see the light change so have to rely on the traffic movement. I'm flustered after that encounter so am not thinking clearly. I think it's safe to cross and begin to walk forward.

"What are you doing?" Jacob asks when a car turns in front of me. "The rules say you can't cross when a car is turning."

"Oh…you're right," I sigh. "My brain is mush," I say stepping back onto the curb.

"Your brain is held together in your skull. With the presence of skull bones, your brain is not mush. It would only change shape or consistency if you sustained a traumatic brain injury," Jacob parrots.

"Jacob, I don't need that right now," I sigh. My nerves are frayed by this point.

I see someone walking up to us.

"Hi, Annabell and Jacob. It's Kevin."

Thank goodness, someone sane.

"Annabell broke the rules!" Jacob gleefully reports.

"What rules?" Kevin asks.

"If there is traffic going in front of her, then she shouldn't cross. She also should wait until the beginning of a traffic cycle before crossing at a lighted intersection. It's never wise to cross in the middle of a cycle, even if the light is green," Jacob parrots.

I cover my face with my hands and sigh. "What is going on with him?" I think.

"What's going on here? Someone better explain because I'm very confused," Kevin says.

"Some idiot came up and told us it was safe to cross when, clearly, it was not safe. It took all I had to convince her that we were just fine. Then she made some stupid remark about how it's so nice that I have a sighted young man to take care of me."

"I see why your nerves are frayed."

"Nerves are inside the body so can't be frayed like string," Jacob says.

I sigh. Whatever was I thinking when I thought walking home was a good idea?

By this point, I'm not sure where the traffic cycle is. Kevin stays with us and tells us when it's safe to cross because he can see I'm not in a position to make that judgment safely.


	9. Chapter 9

**Jacob**

After we arrive home, I'm ready to begin forensics. I've decided to create a crime scene that will totally stump Annabell. Although, with her visual impairment, anything in forensics will stump her.

"Annabell, I have an idea for a crime scene," I say.

Annabell doesn't respond right away.

"Annabell, did you hear me? I have an idea for a crime scene."

"Jacob, I'm not in a good frame of mind to solve a crime scene," Annabell says.

"How come?" Nothing happened after that lady told you it was safe to cross that street."

"I know, but that whole interaction totally wiped me out," she says.

"But you've been blind all your life. You should be used to this."

"Jacob," she sighs. "These interactions are incredibly stressful because of the ignorance some sighted people demonstrate. Please try and understand."

Just then, the doorbell rings. Annabell goes to answer the door, and I begin setting up the crime scene. I find the red food coloring and corn syrup to make the fake blood and the other items I need.

Annabell comes back into the kitchen with Kevin trailing behind her.

"What's up, Jacob?" he asks.

"The sky," I say.

"Jacob, you make me laugh. What's all this red stuff on the floor?"

"Oh that's stuff I'm setting up for a crime scene that I want Annabell to solve. She says she's too tired to do it, but I don't see why. The route was simple enough, and we made it home fine."

"Jacob, listen to me. That interaction with the ignorant woman was very stressful for her. I'm sure she handled it well, but when someone questions her ability to do something independently, it can affect her confidence for a time. Let me try and solve your crime scene while she's resting."

"But you don't know anything about forensics!"

"Try me. My wife has taught me a lot."

I decide that someone has given me an overdose of medicine that is lethal. In the set up, I dump a few pills beside me and put the bottle of medicine near me as well. In the crime, I struggle because I don't want to take this medicine. In our struggle, a kitchen chair is knocked over. Papers are scattered on the table. The perp also hit me once in the face because I wouldn't take the medicine. As a result, there is blood pooled by my head.


	10. Chapter 10

**Annabell**

As soon as we come home, Jacob is begging to create a crime scene. Doesn't he get it? I'm too tired to participate in his forensics game.

I'm heading towards my bedroom when Jacob stops me in my tracks. "Annabell, I have an idea for a crime scene," He says. Great, just what I want to do now. I know I wouldn't solve it correctly, and then he'd probably think blind people couldn't do anything, let alone forensics.

"Annabell, did you hear me? I have an idea for a crime scene."

"Jacob, I'm not in a good frame of mind to solve a crime scene," I say tiredly.

"How come?" Nothing happened after that lady told you it was safe to cross that street."

"I know, but that whole interaction totally wiped me out."

"But you've been blind all your life. You should be used to this."

What will it take for him to get it? Blindfolding him and sending him to an intersection? Maybe.

"Jacob," I sigh. "These interactions are incredibly stressful because of the ignorance some sighted people demonstrate. Please try and understand."

I doubt he will be able to understand this, but I'm hopeful some glimmer of understanding will break through that thick skull of his.

At that moment, the doorbell rings. Good, someone else to participate in his little forensics game. I answer the door and see it's Kevin. Even better. Maybe he will be able to help Jacob understand because, obviously, I'm not doing a good job.


	11. Chapter 11

**Jacob**

Once Kevin agrees to solve my crime scene, I see Annabell disappear down the hall. I get into position and wait.

Kevin is walking around the area carefully inspecting the blood, medicine bottle, and kitchen chair.

"I see a fingerprint, but it's obviously not yours. Hmmmm, someone must have wanted you to take some extra medicine for whatever reason. You struggled so knocked over the chair," he says.

Jacob sits up and smiles. "That's right. Do you know who the perp is?"

"Hmmm, well, I don't recognize the fingerprint. I don't have access to AFIS," Kevin says.

"You know about AFIS?" Jacob asks gleefully.

"A bit although I can't remember what it stands for. All I know is the Fibbies operate it."

"Automated Fingerprint Identification System."

"Right. I should have known that. Karen told me that once." So, let's see, it couldn't be Annabell who was the perp. The fingerprint is much too big for her hand. Let's see… Caleb? No, he's never been here. Sara? No, she wouldn't do something like this. I give up, Jacob. I have no idea who did this to you."

"Phyllis," he says.

"Phyllis? The vision teacher? But, she's never been here."

"She was here last night and left behind an empty pill bottle. I fumed for prints so that's how I knew her print was on the bottle."

"You got me, Jacob."

At that moment, Annabell wanders sleepily into the kitchen. "Did he solve it, Jacob?" she asks in a sleepy voice.

"Sort of. He got the actual crime but couldn't figure out the perp."

"I'm glad to hear that. Thanks for doing this, Kevin. My brain wouldn't have been able to handle forensics now. That lady did a number on me."

"No problem. Now that I've had my CSI fun for the day, I should be going. I have a student waiting," he says.

Just then, I hear my cell phone ring. I figure it's Mom because she told me she'd call at this time each day while I was visiting.

"Hi, Jacob. How are things in Candyville?"

"Pretty good. I wanted her to solve a crime scene, but she said she was too tired. Her mobility teacher came over and did a so so job. He couldn't figure out the perp."

"Why did her mobility teacher come over?"

"Some lady said she needed help crossing a street, and she got into an argument with her. I tried to explain the rules, but the lady wasn't listening to me. Then when she left and Annabell tried to cross, she broke the rules. Did you know blind people listen to traffic sounds to cross the street? And she didn't do that." I take a breath.

"That sounds like it was really stressful for Annabell."

"She said it was, but I don't get it. She's been blind all her life and should be used to this kind of thing."

"Jacob, listen to me. When someone interferes with a blind person's concentration as he or she is listening to traffic sounds, it can be very disorienting. It's very confusing with too many sounds. You know how some environments are too loud for you and have too much stimulation? It's the same thing here. She needed to focus exclusively on the traffic sounds, but that woman talking to her distracted her. She wasn't able to focus until the woman was gone. Even then, I'm sure her mind wasn't in a good place to give her complete attention to the safe crossing."

"I suppose, but why can't life be simple?"

"You're learning a lot there, and I'm proud of you."

As I'm talking to Mom, I hear familiar sounds coming from the other room, sounds I don't like.

"I have to get under my blanket," I say.

"What's wrong, Jacob?"

"She's using that computer again, the one that talks in this weird voice. It's too much for me to handle."

"I shot the sheriff, but I swear it was in self-defense…."

It's getting better, but I can still hear the sounds. Almost immediately, the sound stops.

"That's better," I tell Mom. "The voice has disappeared for the moment."

"See, Jacob? You're doing better with that sound. You didn't have to be under the blanket for very long."

"Phyllis? The vision teacher? But, she's never been here."


	12. Chapter 12

**Annabell**

After Kevin solves the crime scene, much to my relief, I hear Jacob's cell phone ring. I assume it's his mother because she told me she'd call this time today. He disappears into his room to talk to her. I think this is a good time to check e-mail and other online tasks. No sooner did my computer come out of sleep mode than I hear shaking from the other room. Why would he be shaking if he's on the phone with his mom? Oh yes, it's JAWS. I should have remembered that.

I quickly stop what I'm doing with JAWS and change to my iPad. Voice Over has a softer, more human, voice than JAWS. I eventually finish checking e-mail and other online tasks. At that moment, my cell phone rings. I hear my friend Ursula's name announced by the mechanical voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, how are you?"

"Oh, doing fine. What's up?"

"I heard from Kevin that you're entertaining a guest for the next few days. Mind if I stop by for a visit?"

"Sure. Why don't we go to Beel Street for a good dinner? I don't have anything prepared."

"Sounds great. When do you want me to stop by?"

"Let's see, dinner is usually at 6:00, so how about 5:30?"

"You never eat at the same time!"

"I know, but my guest has Asperger's. Routine is very important for him."

"Asperger's? You're entertaining someone with Asperger's? How can you do that!"

"Ursula, it's a long story that I don't want to get into with the way you're feeling right now. Let's talk about it some other time when you're calmer."

"I'm calm now!" she shouts. "I want to know what you're doing with that weirdo in your house. Don't you know people with Asperger's are more violent than normal people?"

"I'm ending this conversation right now. Let's skip dinner for tonight. We'll do it some other time when you're calm."

"No, I'm coming over now. I'm worried about you and this retard."

"Ursula, don't you dare call him a retard in his presence."

"What do you think I am, an idiot? I won't say it in his presence, but we both know it's true."

"Stop right now. I will not continue this conversation. Good bye." I click off and fume.

How dare Ursula, one of my best friends, criticize what I'm doing in my own apartment. It's not right of her to criticize what I'm doing. We're both adults. Inwardly, I'm fuming and very very angry. Outwardly, I'm putting on a happy face because I don't want to deal with this emotional stuff in front of Jacob, at least not now. Not until I'm calmer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Jacob**

I finish my conversation with Mom and hear shouting from the other room. I tiptoe out and stand there listening intently. I hear the word "retard" and cringe. Oh no. I thought I was done with that when I graduated high school. Eventually, the shouting dies down, but not before I've buried myself beneath a weighted blanket and cued "I Shot the Sherriff" on my iPod.

I hear a soft knock on my door.

"Jacob? May I come in?"

"Mmmmm…."

"Jacob? Is everything OK?"

"No, I'm hanging from a rod."

"Jacob. I need you to be honest with me. What's going on?"

"You…called…me…a…retard."

She opens the door and tiptoes to my bed. She sits down slowly.

"I'm going to touch now. Is that OK?"

"Mmmm."

She touches me ever so gently, so gently that I don't notice it until I look up and see her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

"I need to explain why you heard that word. I got a phone call from a friend who wanted to come over and visit us. When I told her I had a guest with Asperger's, she went ballistic."

"You don't have guns in the house."

"I know, it's just a saying. She went crazy over the thought that you were visiting me. It's going to be OK. I promise. Not everyone will have the same reaction as Ursula.

"Ursula? What an ugly name."

"Jacob, that's not something you say to her if she does come over."

"Sorry, but it's true."

"I know it's true, but we can't always say what's on our minds."

Sorry, but it would be so much easier if we could say what's on our minds."

"I know. Anyway, Ursula went ballistic when I told her you have Asperger's. She said some very hurtful things. That's why you heard the shouting. She's not very sensitive. I promise if she does come over, I will run interference."

"I hope so. Kids called me that word all the time in school, and it was awful. I'm not…" he cringes before going on, "retarded."

"I know, Jacob. You're very smart and have a lot of potential to be successful in the world. You'll do great things. People who say things like this don't think about the effect their words will have on others. I deal with it too when people act stupid like that lady on the walk home."

"But you're smart. No one would know you have a disability. Me, I have trouble interacting with people and can't look people in the eye. People always think there's something wrong with me. You, no one ever thinks something's wrong with you. You have a job and went to college. I don't know if I can do that."

"It was worse when I had a guide dog. People would run up to me and say stupid things to me about the dog. It got so bad that I wanted to yell in anger. I never did because I knew that wouldn't solve anything. It took me a long time to get my job because lots of people didn't want to hire me. It's a long story. You though, you're so smart and spunky that you'll be successful in the world. Let's forget about Ursula's comments. Are you hungry?"

"Starving!"

"I have homemade gluten free chocolate chip cookies. They are nice and brown, perfect for today's color."


	14. Chapter 14

**Annabell**

After the walk home, my attempted explanation to Jacob, and then the confrontation with Ursula, I need to think of nothing more difficult than what's for dinner. I wonder too if I should pop an extra anti seizure pill. My doctor warned me that excess stress might cause a breakthrough seizure. I decide to wait and see how things are going. Rationally, I know popping an extra pill might do more harm than good so I decide not to overdose.


	15. Chapter 15

**Jacob**

It's 4:30, time for CrimeBusters. I quickly find the channel and my notebook. It's one of my favorite episodes where a mom finds her son drown in a bathtub. She has to figure out who murdered him since she's the only CSI on the police force. Of course, I solve the case long before she does.

"Dinner's ready," I hear.

I don't know what we're having for dinner, but I hope it's brown. I cautiously approach the kitchen and sniff. It's something my mother has never made before. Even though she says she cooked the food we had last night, I'm still not really sure. Maybe Phyllis or Donna helped her.

"Jacob, I hope you like hamburger hotdish."

"All dishes are hot," I reply.

Annabell laughs and explains that hotdish is the North Dakota term for a casserole. She hasn't lived in North Dakota for 6 years but still uses that term. That makes absolutely no sense to me.

We dish up and begin eating. It's surprisingly good. If Mom was to make this recipe, she'd make it from a box. Annabell tells me there are no mixes in her house as she likes to cook everything herself.

After dinner, the doorbell rings.

"I wonder who that is.," Annabell muses.

When she opens the door, she sighs. I don't know who it is, but it must be someone she doesn't like.

"Come in, Ursula," she says.

"I just wanted to come and tell you that you're making a huge mistake."

"Ursula, Jacob is 2 feet away from this door. He can hear you," she hisses.

"I DON'T CARE," Ursula shouts. "RETARD!"

I'm not asking much. Just a token really, a trifle. You'll never even miss it. What I want from you is... your voice," I say before disappearing.

I start throwing things and swearing loudly. Not even "I Shot the Sherriff" helps this time. That lady has said the one thing that Mom promised I wouldn't hear on this trip. How dare she! She's a liar!


	16. Chapter 16

**Annabell**

Dinner is an uneventful affair with Jacob asking about the term "hotdish." It takes awhile for me to explain that "hotdish" is a word left over from my time living in North Dakota.

As we're cleaning up, the doorbell rings. I'm not expecting anybody so am shocked to see Ursula peering through the window.

She's a tall woman with long black hair, dark make up, and long dark fingernails. She wears 4 inch heels. I'd be flat on my face if I wore 4 inch heels, but Ursula has no difficulty. She walks confidently as though she's on a mission, which I suppose might be true. Why else would she come with no warning?

"Come in."

"I just wanted to tell you that you're making a huge mistake."

"Ursula, Jacob is 2 feet away from this door. He can hear you."

"I don't care. RETARD!"

I'm not asking much. Just a token really, a trifle. You'll never even miss it. What I want from you is... your voice," Jacob says.

"What the hell?"

"You heard him, Ursula."

"But that's from a kid's movie! So, he watches kids' movies too?"

"No, Ursula. Oh, forget it. It's too complicated to get into with you."

I hear yelling, pounding feet, and items being thrown around.

"See what I told you? He's violent."

"Ursula, he was perfectly fine until you said that forbidden word."

"You mean, retard? Come on, say it! You know it's true."

"Yes, that's the word I mean, and no, I won't say it because it's not true. There are people who do in fact have that diagnosis, but not Jacob."

"Oh yeah? Then why is he yelling and throwing things? Retarded people do that. If you tell me he's smart, then you should go stop him."

"Ursula, I will talk to him when you've left the premises. I refuse to allow you to taint my house with such forbidden language. Everyone is different, and no one should be put down for their differences."

"Fine. I'm leaving, but don't expect any help from me ever again. This is it. We're done."

Ursula slams the door and roars down the driveway in her 2012 black Ford Mustang. I'm shaking by the time she's disappeared out of earshot. I stand still for awhile trying to digest the magnitude of what she has said and what it means for me. I knew there would be people who would have negative opinions about Jacob's visit, but I never dreamed it would get this bad.


	17. Chapter 17

**Jacob**

By the time the yelling has stopped, I've hidden in the bottom of a closet with clothes and that weighted blanket on top of me. I don't want to ever see that lady again.

I'm in my own little world, thinking about Jess, when I hear a knock on the door. I don't answer because it might be that mean lady.

"Jacob?" I hear.

No answer.

"Jacob?"

It's not Ursula, but I'm still not sure if she's around. I'm not sure I even want to communicate in normal English for fear of hearing that word.

"1."

"1."

"2."

"3."

She does know the Fibonacci sequence. I'm still not sure if that other lady is lurking behind her, ready to strike.

"5."

"8."

I'm feeling calmer. Maybe calm enough to look around.

I slowly remove the weighted blanket from my body and sit up ever so slowly.

"That's better," Annabell says.

"Why did she say that word?"

"Ursula just wasn't thinking. She's gone now and won't be coming back. I tried to explain to her that you're very smart and spunky, but she wasn't having any of it. She refused to listen."

"B-b-but, she said that word."

"I know, and I'm really sorry. I wasn't expecting her to be so cruel when she visited here. She won't be coming back. I can assure you of that."

"If you're sure…"

"Jacob, I promise. She won't be coming back. She told me that herself."


	18. Chapter 18

**Annabell**

After the disaster that was Ursula's visit, Jacob is shaky and less trusting of me. It will take time, but I'm confident our relationship will return to what it was before Ursula's unexpected visit.

Maybe a crime scene that I solve will help. I pray the evidence is nonvisual although with Jacob's love of forensics, I probably won't get that lucky. I propose this idea to him, and he's excited. There is a fenced in yard behind my apartment that we might be able to use. This depends on Jacob's idea.

As Jacob is setting everything up, I decide to check my e-mail using JAWS. He's outside in the backyard so there's no way he will react the way he did earlier. I'm so confident that I sit down and begin reading e-mail. Nothing happens for a long time so I delve deeper into the online world.

In my inbox, I see an e-mail from Ursula. Oh no, not her again. I want to delete it, but my conscience takes over.

I just wanted to reiterate that you're making a horrible mistake. Your visit with Jacob will end badly, and I will be proven right.

I immediately hit the delete key without bothering to respond to her message. Of course she'd think such pessimistic thoughts. It's in her nature. I know things aren't perfect with Jacob now, but I'm sure it will improve with time and patience.


	19. Chapter 19

**Jacob**

Annabell proposes setting up a crime scene, which suits me just fine. Forensics are better than people! I have the perfect crime scene that will definitely stump her. I'm sure she won't solve it because blind people can't be forensic scientists.

Outside is a clearing with one tree. The grass is very rough and filled with sharp burs. My plan is to lie in a pool of blood that's all over my body and spattered around the grass. Nearby, I place a baseball bat. On the handle is one of Ursula's prints. I know it's there because as soon as she left, having told Annabell the bat was a gift for someone, I analyzed the print using Adobe Photo Shop. I know it's Ursula's print because I had also fumed a piece of paper that fell out of her purse.

There is blood all over the opposite end of the bat. More blood is spattered on my head and neck where Ursula slugged me with the bat before I fell in the clearing. I lie flat on my stomach with my hands and legs spread out on either side.

Before positioning myself, I make sure there are none of my fingerprints anywhere in the vicinity. I'm sure Annabell will automatically think it's a suicide so I want to make sure there is no self-incriminating evidence anywhere around me.

I hear Annabell coming so it's time to lie quietly and watch her try to solve this scene.


	20. Chapter 20

**Annabell**

45 minutes later, I begin to search the house for Jacob's crime scene. I don't see anything in the house so assume he's in the backyard. The grass is green but very sharp. The night is crisp and cool, but much too warm for someone to die of hypothermia. Since he was outside, I thought maybe hypothermia. I immediately discard this idea due to the time of year. If it's not hypothermia, what else might it be?

I walk across the yard looking for any signs that will help me figure this out and not make a mess of the scene. I see brown splotches where something has mixed with the green grass. Must be blood. But where is the path leading?

I try to follow the track of blood, but it seems to be going in every which direction. Did he hop the fence and hide somewhere else? I stand quietly listening. I hear nothing. If he's hiding, he's doing an awfully good job.

I walk on, thoroughly baffled. My foot kicks a baseball bat so I bend down. "Oh my God,," I think. "There's blood all over this bat!"

I decide not to touch the bat if there is a print that the perp left behind. I didn't read John Grisham for nothing! I don't even bother looking for prints because it will make me frustrated. Who needs fingerprints and other visual forensic evidence anyway! Crimes can be solved in other ways.

I move on, slowly, cautiously, deliberately. I glance to my right and see a tan shirt covered with what looks like blood. The body.

I kneel by the head and see blood all over the head and neck. "If there's a bat, and blood all over this body, someone must have clobbered him good. Or, he did this to himself," I muse.

I carefully look over the body. There is only one area of blood at the base of the skull and dripping down the neck. It can't be a suicide. He'd have to be a good contortionist to do this to himself. So, who did it to him? Phyllis? No, he cast her as the perp last time. I doubt he'd cast someone twice. Michelle? No, he doesn't know her. Then it hits me. Ursula. Ursula would be mean enough to do something like this. Of course. Jacob would cast Ursula as the perp because he's still angry at being called that horrible name. I still don't see any prints, but maybe that doesn't matter. I'm sure there are prints somewhere, but right now, I'm too excited to care.

"I've got it, Jacob!" I call out excitedly.

He sits up slowly and carefully flips around so he's facing me.

"Ursula slugged you with the baseball bat for whatever reason. I don't see any prints, but I assume there are prints somewhere. Even without prints, it makes sense. Ursula said something mean to you so of course you'd cast her in your next crime scene."

Jacob looks at me aghast.

"You did it! You solved it even without the forensic techniques. I'm impressed!"

"I told you I didn't need to see fingerprints to solve crime scenes. Let's clean up and get inside. It's getting chilly out here."

Jacob walks beside me bouncing on his heels. I can tell he's thoroughly excited that I solved a crime scene. Maybe this will help him realize that people who are visually impaired can do normal tasks.


	21. Chapter 21

**Jacob**

As Annabell is looking around, trying to solve this, I lie quietly. When she finally speaks, what she says is so surprising I can barely believe it. She guesses the entire crime scene even down to the perp. I'm so surprised. She didn't even look for prints, or I don't think she did. She never mentioned it.

We gather the crime scene stuff and walk inside. I'm so happy I'm bouncing up and down on my heels. So, she can solve crime scenes even though she's blind. Wait until Mom hears this.

When we get inside, I quickly clean off the bat and rinse my shirt in the bathroom sink. I change into PJ's because it's getting late. Today has been exhausting. I don't know what's on the agenda for tomorrow, but I'm sure there are some plans.

I walk out to the kitchen and see Annabell with pills in her hand. What now? She quickly swallows the pills.

"What are those for?"

"The pills?"

"Yeah.

"One is an anti seizure medication and the others are vitamins."

"You have seizures? What else haven't you told me?"

"I'm sorry I didn't mention it. My seizures are well controlled with meds. I haven't had a seizure in many years."

"What should I do if you have one?"

"You should call 911 because I haven't had one in many years. I'll have to be taken to the hospital to be tested. I promise nothing will happen. These meds are doing their job."

"If you say so."

"Trust me, Jacob. Nothing will happen."

"Trust? How can I trust you when that lady came over earlier?"

"I promise, that was totally unexpected. It won't happen again. She's gone forever."

"Sure. Whatever."


	22. Chapter 22

**Annabell**

As I take my nightly meds, Jacob comes into the kitchen. He looks skeptically at the meds in my hand. Once I've taken the pills, I explain the purpose of the meds. He's very skeptical that my seizures are under control. This will take time. I know my own medical history and know that I haven't had a seizure in many years. Of course, it would just be my luck that something would happen.

After I get into PJ's, we sit in the living room and talk about the day. I tell him that things went very well at CABVI. I try and apologize again for the mess Ursula has caused. He ignores that statement. It will take time. I'm confident he will eventually come around.

Later that night, I'm sleeping in bed when the unthinkable happens. My ears begin to ring although I don't think much about the ringing at the time.

Then, I begin shaking and twitching. Oh God, it's a seizure. Why now? I just told Jacob that nothing would happen. I'm on meds. God! Meds are supposed to fix this.

I end up on the floor writhing uncontrollably.


	23. Chapter 23

**Jacob**

Within minutes of saying good night, I hear a horrible sound from Annabell's room. I walk in and see her moving around on the floor. What's going on? I touch her, but that doesn't seem to do any good.

"Think," I tell myself.

Then it hits me. SEIZURE! And she told me she wouldn't have a seizure. She's told me a lot of things that wouldn't happen, but they ended up happening. What did she tell me to do? Oh yes, call 911.

I pull out my cell phone and punch in the numbers. I'm shaking so much I have to try 3 times before the call goes through.

"911, what is your emergency?" I hear.

"My friend is having a seizure I think."

"Are you at 5000 Chocolate Lane?"

"Yes."

"What's your friend doing now?

"She's moving around the floor, shaking and twitching."

"Are you sure it's a seizure?"

"Yes! I told you that already."

"I just have to make sure so we know what to tell the officers and EMT's."

"Has she had seizures before?

"Yes, but it's been many years since her last one."

"We'll send someone over."

"Thanks."

As soon as I hang up from 911, I hear the sirens in the distance. I wish I had a police scanner here so I knew what they were saying and when they would get here. I always had my police scanner on at home so knew when the cops were heading to crime scenes. I feel lost without it. Within minutes, there's a loud knock at the door.

"Candyville police. Open up!"

"I rush to the door and see a tall officer with his partner. The taller guy is balding and is wearing a sergeant's uniform. His younger partner has blonde hair and has a blue hat on his head. Both are carrying guns on their hips. They flash badges at me, Sergeant Olaf Sven is the older officer and Officer Stephen Spielberg is the younger officer.

"She's in the bedroom," I explain.

They kneel down and look at her carefully.

"And you say it's a seizure?"

"I guess."

"You guess. Come on. You can tell me," the younger cop says.

"Well, we were just talking about it. She took meds, one of which is for seizures."

"Oh come on. She took meds. How can she have a seizure?"

"I don't know," I mumble. I begin to get scared. Memories of Detective Mattson are flashing before my eyes. I hope they don't arrest me for something I didn't do. I can't be in jail here. I don't have a lawyer. Besides, Oliver is back in North Carolina working as a ferrier again. He told me practicing law was too stressful. My mother would be beside herself with grief if I was arrested in Candyville. She'd never let me see Annabell again.

The EMT's finally show up, and the cops leave to talk to them. I don't hear what they are saying, but I'm getting scared. I hope they believed me, but knowing cops, I have a bad feeling about this. I'm sure they would think I did something intentional.

As soon as the EMT's enter the room, they begin an examination. "No injuries, blunt or superficial," one muses.

"Heart and lung sound good," another says.

"Blood pressure is normal, but the pulse is a little rapid, "the first one reports.

"What's your name?" the first one asks me.

By this point, I'm flapping and spinning because of all the stimuli. I don't hear the EMT's question.

"See if you can figure out this guy's name. We might need it for our report," she says to her partner.

The second EMT begins to rifle through papers on the dresser and desk. He sees a boarding pass and baggage receipt.

"Got it, Jeannette. His name is Jacob Hunt."

Thanks."

"I think we're ready to load her and leave. Do you know what hospital she wants to go to?" the first one asks me.

Just at that moment, Annabell comes to.

"What's happening?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"You had a seizure," the first EMT says in a soothing tone.

"Oh God, a seizure? I told Jacob that wouldn't happen. He'll never trust me again. What will I do? Take me to Mercy Hospital. They have to figure this out now."

"We're leaving now," says the second EMT.

"Sergeant, can I talk to you for a second?" the first EMT asks the taller cop.

"Why? I have to get this kid to the station and book him for assault."

"You'll do no such thing," snarls the first EMT. "This is a medical condition, not an intentional injury. Jacob did nothing to cause the issue. Besides, there is no forensic evidence of assault. There is no blood, no scrapes, and certainly no bruises. Our medical examination points to a grand mal seizure."

"Yeah right," snarls the sergeant. "I've seen this before. Girl falls out of bed and claims it was a seizure when it was the guy assaulting her. You'll do nothing to stop me."

At that point, the sergeant comes towards me with handcuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent," he begins.

"I know, I know. I've been through all this before. I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be used against me in court. If I can't afford a lawyer, the state has to provide one."

"Don't be such a smart ass, kid," the sergeant shouts.


	24. Chapter 24

**Annabell**

As I'm being rushed outside, I hear Jacob and the sergeant yelling at each other. Oh no, what did he do? I better get that guy's supervisor's name. What's his name? Norm? No, that's not right. Olaf. Yes, that's it. Sergeant Olaf Sven. That man will pay dearly for his actions.

At the hospital, I'm rushed to an emergency treatment cubicle. They perform an EEG, CAT scan, and blood work. It's confirmed by my neurologist, Dr. Hopkins, that yes, in fact, it was a seizure. He told me that if Jacob hadn't called 911 when he did, I would probably have had another seizure. For that, I'm eternally grateful.

The next day, I awake to find myself in a semi private room. I have a roommate, an older woman named Julia Jarvis.

"Morning," she says brightly. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Terrible. Hospitals are never good for sleeping."

"Isn't that the truth?" she laughs.

"I have to get out of here. I have a friend from Vermont staying with me. I have no idea where he is and need to find him. He's probably freaking out by now."

"The kid they took to the jail? That's your friend?"

"What? Jail? Julia, talk to me!"

"My husband is a detective. He was here while you were sleeping. He left his card and asked me to have you call him."

"Can this day get any worse?" I moan.

"I promise my husband will fix everything. You wait. He's a great detective."

I pick up the phone and punch in the number.

"Detective Jarvis here," a pleasant man says.

"Detective, my name is Annabell. I'm in the hospital after having a seizure last night. Julia told me you're aware of the case. What can you tell me about Jacob's whereabouts?"

"He's in the Chocolate County Jail. They don't know what to do with him. He won't talk to anybody and is bouncing on his heels, banging his head into walls, and rocking like crazy."

"Oh God. That bad, huh?"

"'Fraid so," says the detective.

"Can I talk to the jailer?"

"Why do you want to do that?"

"I need to get him out of there. He has Asperger's syndrome and probably doesn't know what's going on. I'm sure it's much too loud for him, and there's too much stimulation for him there. Please, Detective Jarvis."

"I understand your concern because Julia and I have an autistic son. I thought it was strange they would bring him in with no arrest warrant. I'll have to speak to the arresting officer about this. This could cost him his job, arresting an obviously innocent man."

"What? Innocent? You think he's innocent?"

"Of course he's innocent. They said there was no evidence of assault. You were brought in for a seizure, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then that settles it. Have your doctor fax me your records, and we'll have this mess solved within a couple of hours."


	25. Chapter 25

**Jacob**'

The sergeant and his partner cuff me and throw me in the back of their patrol car. As we're driving to the jail, I'm getting scared. Memories of Detective Mattson, Jess, Oliver, and the murder trial are flashing so fast before me that I can't control them. I begin to sweat and shake.

The younger officer looks back at me and mumbles to his partner, "Something's sure wrong with that kid. Best he be thrown in jail with the other criminals. We don't need another maniac loose on the streets."

"I couldn't agree with you more. You'll make a fine sergeant one day."

Minutes later, they stop behind a big gray building. The sergeant leads me to the booking room where they have a mug shot area and a fingerprint scanner. The scanner is connected to AFIS so they can determine if I've been convicted of other crimes. He turns me over to another officer.

"Good luck with this criminal, bro," the officer says as he leaves.

"Olaf, I know how to handle these people," the clerk laughs.

"Well, you might have a problem with this kid."

"Ah, don't worry. I'll be fine."

The clerk approaches me and asks me to stand against the wall with a white background. They snap my mug shot. Then I'm taken to a table with a computer. This must be the live scan where fingerprints are taken. I'm getting excited because this will be the second time I've been in this kind of room.

"Put your hands on this machine, and we'll take your prints," the officer directs.

"I know all about this. The live scan is connected to AFIS where you can see if I have a criminal record. Well, I'll tell you that I don't have a criminal record."

"What the heck are you talking about? No one knows about AFIS."

"AFIS is the Automated Fingerprint Identification System that the FBI has. All criminals' prints are logged in this system as well as federal employees and military personnel. Innocent people, like me, have no reason to have their fingerprints logged into AFIS."

"What the hell are you talking about?" the officer says.

I decide not to answer the question.

After they take my fingerprints and mug shot, I'm led down a hall towards a long hall with 20 cells on each side. It's so similar to the Grafton County jail that I have to stop and catch my breath.

The officer stops at the control room and confers with a jailer. Down the hall, I hear a loud buzz. I guess that will be my home for the next day or so.

The jailer pushes me in front of him until we reach the open cell. It's a small cell, only 6 by 10 with a bed, toilet, table, and sink. It's so much like the Grafton County jail that I stop dead in my tracks and can't move any further.

"Move, kid," the jailer snarls. He pushes me ahead of him. I flip and land on the bunk. Ouch!

He removes the handcuffs and slams the door. I'm left alone in this strange but familiar place. I begin shaking and panicking. I try to calm down, but it's hard.

"You can get through this, Jacob," I tell myself. "You've been here before."

What would Henry Lee do?

First, he'd analyze the evidence at the scene.

She fell out of bed by her own volition.

The EMT said it was a seizure.

Her heart and lung sounds were good.

There is no blood.

There are no visible injuries.

I was 20 feet down the hall when the seizure happened so couldn't have done anything to her.

I'm beginning to feel better when another officer comes to my cell. He handcuffs me and leads me to an interrogation room. There, I meet another officer who introduces himself as Detective Ron Jarvis.

"Jacob, I just have a few questions to ask you. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but talking to me will help this get resolved quicker. You have the right to remain silent…."

"I know. I have the right to remain silent. Anything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law. If I can't afford a lawyer, the state has to provide one."

"How do you know that?"

"CrimeBusters."

"What?

"It's a show I watch everyday at 4:30 PM. It's part of my structured routine."

"Structured routine?"

"Yeah. I have Asperger's so have to have a routine."

The detective is writing as I'm speaking. He's very interested in what I have to say and gives me all the time I need to process what he's asked.

"So, Jacob, tell me what you remember from this evening."

"Well, we were outside. I had created a crime scene for Annabell to solve. It's not a real crime, but I love to set up crime scenes for people to solve. She solved it quickly too, which I was excited about."

"Then what?"

"Well, then, we came inside and I saw her with pills in her hand. I asked what those were for, and she told me one was an anti seizure pill."

"So, you knew she has seizures?"

"No, she hadn't told me until just a few hours ago."

"Then what?"

"We went to bed. I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard this awful sound from her bedroom."

"Can you describe it?"

"It was as though something or someone fell off the bed. It was loud."

"Then what?"

"She was twitching like I've never seen anybody twitch before. I knew I hadn't done anything to her to cause that movement."

"Of course not, Jacob. Go on."

"Well, I remembered that she had told me to call 911 if she was to ever have a seizure because she hadn't had one in many years. I called 911, and they came quickly after I made the call."

"I see. Whom did you speak with?"

"I don't remember his name. Some big tall guy. He had a sergeant's uniform on and a gun. He was with a younger guy. The sergeant was mean and threatened to arrest me. I even heard the EMT yelling at him, telling him that he'd do no such thing. The sergeant argued with the EMT, but he got his way."

"Oh that has to be Olaf Sven. He's such a bully."

"Then he read me my Miranda rights, but I know them from CrimeBusters."

"Yes, I know. I never see criminals who can recite Miranda from memory."

"What will happen next?"

"I'll have to look at Annabell's medical records, but I'm 99% sure we'll have this mess resolved within a few hours."


	26. Chapter 26

**Annabell**

I'm sitting up in bed when Mom and Phyllis come rushing into the room.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I got a call from your neurologist. He didn't give me specifics so what happened?"

"I had a seizure," I say and then burst into tears.

"What? A seizure? But you're on meds."

"I know," I sniffle. "Jacob will never trust me again."

"What does this have to do with Jacob?"

Through tears, I tell them what happened last night.

"And, and he's in j-j-jail."

"Jail? You've got to be kidding!"

"Unfortunately, no. Sergeant Olaf Sven barged into my house and took Jacob out in handcuffs after yelling at the EMT's. I don't know what the EMT's told him, but it obviously didn't convince the sergeant."

"Oh my goodness. Do you know where Jacob is now?"

"Yeah, he's at the Chocolate County jail. He's probably freaking out by now. I'm sure he's having flashbacks like crazy. He's been in jail before for a crime he didn't commit."

"I know. I read the articles. Poor Jacob."

At that moment, my doctor comes into the room. He's angrier than I've ever seen him before.

"Tell me this isn't true that your friend was arrested for assault," he bellows at the top of his lungs.

"Unfortunately, it is true, Doctor," I say sniffling.

"I've already faxed the records to Detective Jarvis. He just called me a few moments ago and told me Jacob will be released within a few hours. Unfortunately, you'll have to go before a judge. The hospital has a lawyer who will handle this case pro bono. She's very good. Her name is Jennifer Gramtham."

Dr. Hopkins does another neurological examination and pronounces me ready to be released. He's increased my dosage from 800 to 1200 MG. We hope this will prevent further seizures.

Phyllis agrees to drive me to the jail. I've never been to a jail and am a little scared. I don't even have my white cane with me because we left so quickly. The EMT had enough forethought to grab my house keys, but she left my cane sitting on the chair. Oh well, Phyllis knows human guide so I'm not too worried.


	27. Chapter 27

**Jacob**

After the meeting with Detective Jarvis, I'm brought back to my cell. I'm still scared and shaky because I don't know if I can trust Detective Jarvis. He seemed nice enough, but I still have the memories of Detective Mattson in my mind. Plus, Annabell said things that turned out not to be true. Whom do I trust?

I'm still shaking and scared as the hours drag by. It's so bad that I start banging my head on the bars of my cell. Blood drops from my forehead, but I don't notice. An officer comes by with the food tray, but I don't even notice it.

"Eat, kid!" he screams.

He shoves the tray in the little slit that's in the bars for this very purpose. I'm not interested so let it fall to the floor. Besides, it's not blue food. Today is Friday. Not having blue food makes me shakier than I was before. I begin to spin and flap and bang my head into the bars.

At some point, the jail nurse comes by. She shakes her head at my behavior and spilled food and whispers to her friend, "What's wrong with him?"

"Dunno," the jailer says. "Jarvis says he's got some weird Asperger's thing."

"Asperger's? But that's not a real diagnosis."

"Dunno, Alma. You've got me. But if Jarvis says he's got Asperger's, he's probably right. He knows this stuff. Look at his son Austin."

"I'd forgotten about Austin."

"What do we do about the blood and injuries?"

"I'll inject him with succinylcholine. That will calm him for awhile."

She leaves and is back within minutes. She jabs a syringe into my butt so fast I don't know what hit me. Within minutes, I'm not able to move. This totally freaks me out.

"I'll go get the bandages and fix up his wounds," she says.

Alma returns quickly, and with expert hands, she cleans and bandages the wounds. She and the jailer leave, slamming the door behind them. I'm out cold from the injection and don't know what's happening around me.

Later, the medicine starts to wear off. I'm not sure where I am, but then it hits me. Jail! Why am I in jail? It's all starting to come back to me. Seizure…police…EMT's…Detective Jarvis…questions.


	28. Chapter 28

**Jennifer**

I've practiced law for 10 years and have done pro bono legal work for the hospital for 5 of those 10 years. When I get an urgent phone call from Phillip Hopkins, my heart begins to race.

"Jenn, I have a case for you that might be difficult. A teen with Asperger's syndrome was arrested last night for assaulting a girl."

I grab a legal pad from my desk and hurriedly scribble down notes as Dr. Hopkins relates the details of the case. This will definitely get the media's attention.

"Where's Jacob now?"

"He's at the Chocolate County Jail," the doctor responds.

"I'm on my way."

I jump into my little red Fiat and am at the jail within minutes.

An officer brings me to Interview Room 4 and leaves to get the defendant. In front of me, I have copies of Annabell's medical records that Phillip so graciously faxed to me on short notice.

I hear metal clinking and glance behind me. I see a tall guy in handcuffs who appears to be very groggy. There's a butterfly bandage on his forehead. His hair is matted, and his clothes are wrinkled and dirty.

"Hello, Jacob. My name is Jennifer. I'll help get you out of this mess."

He doesn't say anything for a minute. Then he says "Henry Lee is a famous forensic scientist that works at the University of New Haven. He's worked on the Lacey Peterson and OJ Simpson murder cases."

"Great," I think. "An armchair CSI."" Little do I know that Jacob Hunt is blisteringly brilliant with forensics.

"Jacob, we need to talk about your case. We'll be appearing before the judge in an hour for the arraignment so I need to hear the facts from you."

"I didn't do what they say I did," He says softly.

"I know. The doctors told me."

"Then if you know, what do you need from me?"

"The facts of what happened on Thursday night."

As Jacob tells me the whole incredible story, I begin to fume. Sergeant Olaf Sven will pay dearly for this. The media will eat him for lunch.

After our conversation in which Jacob tells me every detail of what happened the previous evening, I call for the guard to release us. As soon as I'm in my car, I make phone calls to the local TV station and newspaper. My contacts there are fuming by the time I'm done. They promise to be at the courtroom for the arraignment.


	29. Chapter 29

**Jacob**

As the medicine is wearing off, another officer opens my door. "Up, kid," he barks.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Some lawyer's here to save your butt," he says.

Lawyer? But Oliver's not even in Candyville. How did a lawyer get involved so quickly?

I'm taken to a small room where I see a lady sitting at a table. She has short reddish brown hair and blue eyes. She's wearing a light blue dress.

"Jacob, my name is Jennifer. I'm here to help get you out of this mess," she says in a gentle tone.

I don't say anything for a minute because I don't know what's true and what's not true anymore. I've been lied to so often on this trip that the truth is something elusive.

"Dr. Henry Lee is a famous forensic scientist who has worked on the OJ Simpson and Lacey Peterson murder cases. He works at the University of New Haven," I finally say.

I see Jennifer roll her eyes. Great. Someone who doesn't like forensics.

"Jacob, we need to talk about your case. We'll be appearing before the judge in an hour so I need to hear the facts from you."

"I didn't do what they say I did," I tell her.

"I know. The doctors told me."

"Then if you know, what do you need from me?"

"I need your side of the story."

I tell her everything from setting up the crime scene that Annabell solved to finding her on the floor of her bedroom to that cop arresting me. We end with the nurse injecting me with the medicine just a short time ago.


	30. Chapter 30

**Jennifer**

After Jacob and I finish our meeting, I rush to a phone and punch in Dr. Hopkins' number.

"Is Annabell still admitted?" I ask.

"Yes, but she's due to be released soon."

"I need to talk to her. She'll be our star witness at the preliminary hearing."

"Fine, Jenn, whatever you need. She's still in her room."

"I'll be there in 5 minutes."

I throw papers into my red and white striped canvas bag and rush from the jail. I speed towards the hospital. Time is crucial. I've never worked on such a high pressure, and high profile, case.

At the hospital, I'm directed to Room 305. A pretty brunette is sitting in a chair with the remains of her breakfast tray on a table next to her.

"Hi, Annabell. My name is Jennifer. I'm Jacob's lawyer."

"It's nice to meet you. What can I do for you?"

"I need to hear what happened from you so I can build my case."

Annabell walks me through the events of the evening from solving the crime scene to the conversation with Jacob about not telling him about her seizures to her seizure after they had gone to bed. She describes coming to after the seizure and hearing Jacob and a cop yelling at one another.

"That was the scariest part of the whole thing," she admits tearfully. "Jacob's been through this all before. I was hoping his trip here wouldn't be this eventful."

I touch her shoulder gently and promise her we'll get this mess cleared up.

"One more thing, Jennifer," Annabell says as I'm preparing to leave. "In his other trial, his mother sat with him at the defense table. This was an accommodation his lawyer, Oliver, asked for. He was much calmer with his mother sitting at counsel table because she is a familiar person to him. I'd like to sit with him at counsel table to fill the same role. Although we've only been together for a couple of days, I think Jacob would be much more comfortable with me next to him."

"I think we can arrange that. The judge who has been assigned to the case is very understanding. She has a son with multiple disabilities. She's very passionate about ensuring the criminal justice system is accessible for individuals with all types of disabilities."

"Will I need to speak with her before the arraignment?"

"No, I'll take care of everything. You just get to the courthouse, and we'll make sure this process is as smooth for Jacob as possible."

Having seen Jacob at the jail, I think Annabell is right to request this accommodation. If the judge refuses this accommodation, then we will have grounds for appeal. I don't anticipate this being a problem although the prosecutor could be tough to convince.


	31. Chapter 31

**Madeline**

Early on Friday morning, I'm sitting at my desk going through the voluminous mountain of paperwork that always accumulates that I never have time to deal with in my busy work as an assistant prosecutor. I only have 3 months until retirement, and I can't wait. Retirement can't come soon enough.

I hear a soft knock on my closed office door.

"Madeline, may I come in?" my law clerk asks.

"Yes, Mendy. I'm only doing paperwork."

Mendy comes in and sits gingerly on a chair that's surrounded by files and papers. Any wrong move could send everything toppling.

"I picked up a report from the police department that a teen was arrested for assault last night. I don't know a lot about the case, but here's the report."

I take the paper and quickly scan. Great. Just what I need in an already crammed caseload. Yet another assault. Knowing the arresting officer, I can bet this will be a nightmare of epic proportions. Olaf arrests people just for the fun of it, even if there is no evidence linking the perp to the crime. Olaf will pay for his ineptness.

"One more thing," Mendy says. "I heard the teen has Asperger's syndrome."

"Asperger's? What the hell is that?"

"I don't know. I can research it if you'd like."

After Mendy leaves, I fume. Great. This lawyer will probably use this Asperger's thing to get the kid off. That's not happening, so long as I'm the prosecutor on this case. If there is evidence that the kid didn't commit the alleged crime, that's another matter entirely. If the lawyer claims that the kid didn't know what he was doing because of the Asperger's diagnosis and there is physical evidence, we'll have an all out war.

A few minutes later, my secretary calls and says that Jennifer is holding on line 1.

"Madeline Calzone. How may I help you?"

"Yes, this is Jennifer Grantham. I'm Jacob Hunt's lawyer. I'd like to meet with you and Judge Jesso to go over a few things before the arraignment."

"Mrs. Grantham, there is nothing we need to discuss prior to the arraignment. It's just a simple assault charge."

"No, Mrs. Calzone. It's not as simple as you think it might be."

"Fine, I'm in my office."

I call Judge Kathleen Jesso and alert her that Grantham is on her way over. Both women arrive almost exactly at the same time.

"Good morning, Your Honor."

"Nice weather today."

"It sure is. I'd like to get this arraignment done quickly so we can all enjoy it."

"Your Honor, I'd like to make a request on behalf of my client," Jennifer says. "My client was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome when he was 11 years of age. He has difficulty communicating in social situations as well as other classic traits of Asperger's. Mr. Hunt was involved in a court proceeding last year in Vermont, which necessitated many court appearances. His lawyer requested that his mother be permitted to sit with him at the defense table during the proceedings. This request was made so that Jacob was more comfortable during the proceedings. Annabell is making the same request for this, and any subsequent, proceedings."

"Mrs. Grantham, let me get this straight. You're asking that your client's friend sit with him at council table so that he's more comfortable? That's ridiculous! He's 18 years old. He should be able to handle a simple hearing."

"Mrs. Calzone, due to his Asperger's diagnosis, events that are not part of his structured routine make Jacob very anxious. Changes in routine must be planned for in advance. Under Title III of the Americans with Disabilities Act, public places must provide accommodations for individuals with disabilities. We are arguing that Annabell sitting with Jacob at council table is an appropriate accommodation under title III.

"Jacob shouldn't have assaulted Annabell then," I snap. "If he's so dependent on structure, then he should have known that assaulting her wouldn't be part of his little routine."

"Mrs. Calzone, Annabell had a grand mal seizure. Her physician has faxed me her medical records."

"Your Honor, I think having Annabell sit at the defense table is a bad idea. The defendant needs to handle this by himself with the assistance of his lawyer."

"Mrs. Calzone, I disagree," the judge says. "I'm very familiar with the Asperger's diagnosis as well as title III of the Americans with Disabilities Act. Jennifer has valid concerns. Therefore, I will allow Annabell to sit with Mr. Hunt. I warn you, Mrs. Grantham, that if Annabell gets the least bit out of line, she will have to be removed from council table."

Thank you, Your Honor," Jennifer says.

"Is there anything else?

"No, Your Honor," I say. Strike 1 in my battle to keep Jacob Hunt behind bars.


	32. Chapter 32

**Annabell**

Minutes later, we're in a courtroom. I've never been in a courtroom, and it's so…big. I'm rushed through the bar and seated at one of the long tables. At the other table sits a stern looking woman, Madeline Calzone.

Jennifer arrives shortly after I'm seated at the table. She's wearing the prettiest blue dress I've ever seen. I didn't notice that in the hospital because I was so nervous. When she puts her red and white striped bag on the table, I'm immediately put at ease. Phyllis had a red and white striped bag when she worked with me. I have a good feeling because I've always associated red and white striped bags with good things.

"Thank you for all you've done in such a short amount of time," I say. My eyes are filling yet again. I never thought people in the criminal justice system could be so nice.

A few minutes later, Jacob is brought in. He's still groggy from the injection and has a butterfly bandage on his forehead. He's shaking like I've never seen him shake before. The bailiff leads him to where Jennifer and I are sitting and removes the handcuffs.

"How are you doing?" I whisper.

He doesn't say anything. Why isn't he talking? I have to know.

"Come on, Jacob," I try again. "Everything will be OK."

Still nothing. There's a pad and pen on the table that he spots and motions for. Jennifer passes it to him.

"Oliver said for me not to talk in a courtroom," he writes in tiny script.

Great. He's not talking, and I can't read his handwriting. Can this get any worse?

"Jacob, you need to write bigger."

He rewrites the sentence in bigger writing. I pick out enough, "Oliver…not…courtroom." Oh, so that's it. Oliver said for him not to talk in a courtroom. Got it.

"Oh…right," I muse. "It's OK to talk for a few minutes. The judge hasn't come in yet."

"No," he writes in the same bigger script, "Oliver said not to."

"Come on, Jacob," I think. "This is not Vermont. You can talk to me. I have to know how you're doing."

"Jacob, I'm sorry about what happened last night. I had no idea."

"Yeah right," he writes. "If you're such a hot shot CSI, how come you didn't get me out of there sooner?"

Inwardly, I fume. I'm not a cop and have no jurisdiction over the jail system. I'm only an adaptive tech teacher who knows very little about the criminal justice system.

"That's why we have Jennifer here." I whisper.

At that moment, a bailiff enters the courtroom. "All rise. The Honorable Kathleen Jesso presiding."

A young woman, probably no more than 40, enters the courtroom. She's short and has long dark hair. Her hair is lose and falls to the middle of her back. It's beautiful.

Jacob writes quickly on his pad. It's so small I can't read it.

"I can't read what you've written," I whisper.

"She has long hair. Get me out of here," he writes furiously but in somewhat bigger script.

Oh great! We would get a judge that would set off Jacob's Asperger's quirks. Just what we need.

"I can't do anything about that, Jacob," I whisper. "Imagine it's your mom sitting up there."

"Please be seated," she says."

"We are here today for the arraignment of Jacob Hunt on one charge of aggravated assault."

After the charge is read, Judge Jesso asks Jennifer how Jacob wishes to plead.

"Not guilty, Your Honor," she says.

"Anything further?" the judge asks.

"Yes. Due to the nature of the crime, I recommend bail be set at $50,000. If Jacob cannot pay this amount, he should be kept in the custody of the Chocolate County sheriff," Madeline says.

"Your Honor, keeping Jacob in jail until he is able to make bail is unreasonable because of his Asperger's diagnosis. He needs to have a structured routine, which includes specific colors of foods, specific medications, and other activities performed at the same time each day. If Jacob's routine is disrupted significantly, he will experience deterioration in his behavior. There is also concern for self injury if he is in jail due to the sensory overstimulation. Jacob poses no flight risk, therefore, I request a lower bail."

"Your Honor, this is unreasonable. There are other inmates in the Chocolate County jail with disabilities. They have never used their disabilities to request a lower bail. Life doesn't revolve around Jacob. He needs to fit into our mold."

"Your Honor, Jacob will appear for each scheduled court appearance. Rules and routine are important to him. If he knows that he is expected to be in court at a specific time on a specific date, he will be there. I will ensure that Jacob appears for each court proceeding."

"Your Honor, releasing Jacob to Annabell's custody will be dangerous for Annabell. He was arrested for assaulting her. Therefore, the only safe place is in the Chocolate County jail."

"Annabell suffered a grand mal seizure. Her physician said in his report that this was a breakthrough seizure. Annabell's medication dosage has been increased, therefore, it is unlikely she will suffer any further seizures."

"Your Honor, Mrs. Grantham is being unreasonable, blaming Annabell's condition on a supposed seizure. Jacob assaulted her, and for that reason, he must be kept in the Chocolate County jail. It will be safer for Annabell."

"Your Honor, Jacob needs to be in a familiar environment and with familiar people in order to ensure his emotional security."

"No other criminal attorney requests that their client be released on the grounds of emotional security and a pre existing diagnosis. If we release all criminals based on supposed mental illness or other pre existing diagnoses, Candyville will become violent and unsafe. Therefore, Jacob must be kept in the custody of the Chocolate County Sherriff until his next court appearance."

After Jennifer and Madeline conclude their arguments for and against bail, the judge speaks.

"Jacob is released to the custody of Annabell until the preliminary hearing on Monday at 9:00 AM. He must be fitted with an electronic monitoring ankle bracelet. He also may not leave the house until the hearing on Monday morning. At that time, we will determine whether there is enough evidence to continue legal proceedings. Mrs. Grantham, if Jacob does not appear for a scheduled court appearance, you and Annabell will be held responsible."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Jennifer says.


	33. Chapter 33

**Jacob**

Justice is fast in New York. There was an arraignment in my other case, but it was a disaster that both my mom and lawyer didn't want to repeat.

At that moment, the bailiff comes over to me and takes me to the holding room. There, an electronic monitoring bracelet is placed on my left ankle. This will track my movements until the next court appearance when I hope it will be removed.

Annabell and Jennifer come to the bars of the holding cell. I'm beginning to flap and spin.

"Jacob, I need to know how you're doing," Annabell says.

"1," I automatically say.

"1."

"2." At least someone speaks in a way that's understandable to me.

"Come on, Jacob, please talk to me."

"3."

"Jacob, please. I need to know how you're doing."

"You can't handle the truth."

"Jacob, please! I don't need the movie stuff."

"Jacob, I need you to sign some papers," Jennifer says. "These are forms that basically tell the court that you won't flee while out of jail. You're under house arrest until the preliminary hearing."

She tries to pass me the pen and papers, but I ignore them.

"Jennifer, may I go into the cell and speak to him?" Annabell asks.

"Let me speak to the bailiff."

Jennifer whispers something to the bailiff who immediately opens the cell door. Annabell comes in and sits down next to me.

"Jacob, we need to talk. I need to know how you're doing."

Does she really care? She hasn't been truthful with me for days. I don't say anything.

"Jacob, please. We need to know how you're doing. I promise that just as soon as we get home, you can do anything in forensics that you want. You can even teach me about dusting for prints."

Forensics? Did she say forensics? My eyes light up. I grab the forms and sign quickly.


	34. Chapter 34

**Annabell**

As soon as the bailiff lets us out of the holding cell, I see someone rushing up to us. I recognize him from Channel 8 and realize he's my favorite reporter.

"I'm Kerry Redland. Jennifer contacted me about this situation, and I'd like to ask you a few questions."

His cameraman is standing next to him aiming right at me. There's a boom microphone in my face too.

"How did you feel when you found out Jacob was in jail," Kerry asks.

"I was angry because this is something that has happened to him before. He was arrested for a crime he didn't commit. I was hoping this visit to Candyville would be a pleasant vacation for him with no surprises."

"We've learned Jacob was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome. How has that been for you?"

"I've done a fair bit of reading on the condition but had never interacted with anyone with this diagnosis for a long period of time. I didn't know what to expect."

"I've talked with others involved in the situation, and they tell me this was a medical problem."

"Yes, I had a breakthrough seizure. It was totally unexpected because I've been on meds for 17 years. I hadn't had a seizure in quite a few years so to have one while Jacob was visiting me was completely unexpected and surprising."

"How has this affected Jacob?"

"Well, as you can see, he's spinning and flapping his hands. This is typical stimming behavior people on the autism spectrum exhibit when their environment or the situation gets too much for them to handle. I'm not able to talk to him to determine how he's doing with all of this because he will only speak in the Fibonacci sequence or recite movie quotes. To be honest, sir, it's quite stressful for him."

"May I speak to him?"

"I'm afraid that's not a good idea at this time. He needs to calm down and get back into some semblance of a normal routine."

At that moment, another reporter, hidden from view, springs out from his hiding place and corners Jacob.

"What did you do to that poor girl?" I hear him ask.

"That's it, just torment the poor lad," I think.

"1," I hear.

"Come on, kid, talk to me. You'll be famous."

"1."

"What's that, kid?"

"2."

At that point, Jennifer sees what's going on and rushes over to Jacob. She corners the reporter and gives him a piece of her mind. He leaves rather quickly.

"Thank you, annabell," Kerry says. "You'll see this on the 6:00 news tonight. I'll be back for the preliminary hearing on Monday."


	35. Chapter 35

**Jacob**

After we leave the courthouse, we locate Phyllis' red car in the massive parking lot. I'm very tired from the events of the past few hours.

"Why don't we stop by McDonald's for lunch? I need a big greasy burger to calm my nerves," Annabell says.

"Sounds good to me," Phyllis agrees.

McDonalds? But they don't have anything blue, and today is Friday!

We pull up at the drive through window where Phyllis and Annabell place their orders. Annabell turns to me and asks what I want.

"Something blue," I say."

"We'd also like a fruit and yogurt parfait. Can you have the kitchen staff only put blueberries in the parfait?" Phyllis says.

The order complete, we pull forward to the next window where Phyllis pays for our meals. She pulls forward to the third window where our food is waiting.

When they get the food, Phyllis drives off and heads for Annabell's apartment. It will be good to sleep in that comfy bed again. The bed at the jail was so hard.

We get home and spread out the food. I look at my yogurt parfait and am relieved to only see blueberries. It's so good that I don't even notice the yogurt isn't blue.

After our lunch, we all take long naps. We're all exhausted from the traumatic events of the past few hours.


	36. Chapter 36

**Annabell**

Once we arrive home and finish our lunch, we all collapse from exhaustion. I'm out cold within minutes, both from the exhaustion of the seizure and the events of the past few hours. I pray nothing like this ever happens to me again. It was so stressful that I sleep for hours.

When I wake up, I remember my promise to Jacob. I walk down the hall to his room.

"Jacob, before we do the forensics lesson, I'd like to talk to you."

"You didn't say we'd talk before forensics," he says.

"I know, but I changed my mind. We need to talk so that I know how you're doing."

"I wish I hadn't gotten arrested," he says.

"I know. That wasn't in the plans for your visit. Neither was me having a seizure. My physician said that it was a breakthrough seizure. Even though I'm on meds, I still will have a seizure once in awhile, especially if there is lots of stress in my life. Yesterday was very stressful with Ursula's visit and that lady trying to help us across the street. . My physician has increased my dose from 800 to 1200 MG so there will be more medicine in my system. This should prevent any further breakthrough seizures. I can't promise whether I will have another seizure while you're here or not, but I'm relatively confident this won't happen again."

Jacob doesn't say anything for a minute. I wonder what he's thinking.

"How come you didn't tell me about your seizures before I came?"

"I guess because they were so well controlled. I figured I didn't need to worry you or your mom with the possibility of me having a breakthrough seizure. I figured it was such a remote possibility that it wouldn't happen in the week you'd be here."

I can tell he's mulling this over trying to put it into his own range of experiences.

"I guess that makes sense," he says. "There are people I didn't tell about my Asperger's in the beginning, but there were problems later because I didn't tell them about it." He tells me about a job he once held at a pet shop where he was fired because of his Asperger's quirks, for instance not wearing the uniform shirt except on the day designated for that color.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah."


	37. Chapter 37

**Jacob**

After I wake up from my nap, I check my cell phone. I see messages from my mother. Oh no. I don't want to talk to her, not about this at least. I suppose I'll have to call her because she might hear about this from someone. News travels fast, especially among Aspies.

I reach over and grab my cell phone. Sure enough, there are 7 missed calls. I'm sure they are all from Mom.

"Hi, Jacob. It's Mom. Hope you're doing well."

"Hi, Jacob. Where are you? I'm worried."

"Jacob, pick up your phone!"

"Jacob, answer your phone!"

"Jacob, it's Oliver. Hope your trip to Candyville is going well. Call me."

"Jacob, it's Theo. Mom's really worried. Call us."

"Jacob, it's Oliver again. Your mom called me and told me you're not answering your cell phone. Please call me. We're all worried."

At that moment, Annabell knocks and asks if she can come in. She wants to talk about what happened over the past few days. After our conversation in which she apologizes for not telling me about her seizures sooner, we move to the living room.

"Are we done talking? Can I teach you about forensics now?"

Annabell laughs. "Yes, we're done for now. But don't expect any miracles. I'm no Henry Lee."

I gather the materials to teach her about dusting for prints.

"Latent prints are the hardest prints to see so that's why cops dust for prints using this type of material. In order to dust for good prints, you will need a soft brush, clear tape, colored paper, and a dusting powder. Since we're not real CSI's, we can use cocoa powder. You'll need to be able to see the print that's on the paper when the process is complete."

Annabell gathers the materials. She's not sure she has the right kind of brush, but we'll see if it works. The brush she shows me is a soft brush used to apply makeup. I look at the bristles and tell her that this is the right kind of brush.

"Let's start with a drinking glass. You'll get a much better print if your fingers are oily." Annabell brings the glass and a bottle of vegetable oil. I show her how to place a print on the glass and then how to use the cocoa powder to dust for the same print.

"Jacob, I'm really sorry, I can't see the prints on the paper. I believe you when you tell me they are there, but they are too small for me to locate. Maybe if we did this on a high contrast paper, it would be better. Unfortunately, I don't have any dark paper to try it with."

I shouldn't be surprised because she told me on Wednesday night that she wouldn't be able to see the Galton ridges on fingerprints. I thought maybe if they were on a piece of paper, it would be better.

"Well, Jacob, you got me," Annabell says. "I guess if I'm ever caught at a crime scene, I'll know what's going through the CSI's mind and can do things that won't leave prints."

"That won't work. CSI's use chemicals to process prints. The first step in the process is placing a small drop of ninhydrin on the area they want to process for prints. Ninhydrin reacts with the amino acids present in skin. Finally, the CSI will use a particle reagent."

"Oh darn! I thought having this lesson in fingerprint analysis would help me become a better criminal." Annabell is laughing as she's saying this. "I guess I need to take chemistry classes because I have no clue what ninhydrin is."

"Ninhydrin is a chemical used to detect amino acids. It turns purple when it comes into contact with amino acids."

"Jacob, you amaze me with your knowledge! I think you should become a CSI."

I smile as she says this because that's exactly what I want to do.


	38. Chapter 38

**Annabell**

The rest of the weekend passes uneventfully. Jacob and I are both nervous for the preliminary hearing on Monday. I'm nervous because I have no idea what to expect from Mrs. Calzone. Jacob is probably nervous because he's remembering his Vermont experience.

We both rise early on Monday morning because we're expected in court at 9:00 sharp. Jacob rises at 6:20 as is his custom each and every morning. He's showered and dressed when I crawl out of bed at 7:00.

At 7:30, Mom comes over bringing strawberries, apples, and cherry oatmeal. Today is a red food and clothing day, and she knows it.

After breakfast, we get ready to leave. Jacob takes one look at the bright orange car we will be riding in and fleas.

"Great! Not what I need on this morning," I sigh.

"What's wrong?"

"He hates orange for some strange reason."

"Well, that's what we have. I can't paint the car in 45 minutes. Can you convince him to ride in it?"

"I'll try."

I find Jacob cowering in his closet and kneel next to him.

"Jacob, it's OK. Mom didn't know about your aversion to orange. This is the car we have to take to the courthouse. I'm sorry, but there is no other choice."

"But, can't you call Phyllis?" he asks in a shaky voice.

"Unfortunately, she's working with students this morning."

"Please?"

"No, but I can call Jennifer and see if she will drive us to the courthouse."

"Does she have an orange car?"

"I don't know."

I quickly dial Jennifer's office number and explain the situation. She promises that her car is bright red. I sigh with relief. Within 5 minutes, she's at my door, and we all get in the car.


	39. Chapter 39

**Jacob**

The weekend passes uneventfully. On Monday morning, I get up at 6:20 as is my routine whether school is in session or not. Since today is a red day, I dress quickly in the red outfit I've brought. It's a plane red shirt and khaki pants.

At 7:30, Donna comes over bringing lots of red food. It puts me at ease knowing that Annabell's friends know my routine.

After breakfast, we get ready to leave. Annabell directs me to the car we'll be riding in. I take one look and flee. It's bright orange, and I hate orange. There are no other words that rhyme with it, which makes it suspicious. Annabell knows this! Why didn't she tell the Nazi?

"Jacob, it's OK. Mom didn't know about your aversion to orange. This is the car we have to take to the courthouse. I'm sorry, but there is no other choice."

I ask her to call Phyllis, but she's working with students that morning. She calls Jennifer and tells me that Jennifer will pick us up in her bright red car. Finally, something going right.


	40. Chapter 40

**Annabell**

We arrive at the courthouse with 15 minutes to spare before the hearing. Jennifer, Jacob, and I are shown to a small conference room where we discuss the upcoming hearing. Shortly before 9:00, Jennifer leads us into the courtroom, and we take our places.

"All rise, the honorable Kathleen Jesso presiding," says the bailiff.

Once the judge is seated, she looks over at the prosecutor.

"Mrs. Calzone, please call your first witness."

Madeline rises and walks elegantly to the podium. "I call Sergeant Olaf Sven."

The sergeant swaggers to the stand and seats himself arrogantly in the seat. I'm so angry I could spit right about now. In front of me, I hear reporters busily writing notes. Flashes go off every few seconds. A quiet whir of a TV camera is heard somewhere in the distance.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record," Madeline says.

"Sergeant Olaf Sven, Candyville Police Department."

"Sergeant, were you called to the home of someone alleged to have suffered a seizure on the evening of May 27?"

"I was. At 2100 hours, my partner, Officer Steven Spielberg, and I were dispatched to 5000 Chocolate Lane with the report of a woman suffering a grand mal seizure."

"What did you find when you arrived?"

"There was a young man there who was flapping his hands and spinning. He pointed to the room where the victim was. She was lying on the floor groggy and barely responsive."

"Did you arrest Jacob Hunt on the grounds of assault?"

"I did."

"What evidence do you present?"

"There is a young woman who is lying on the floor groggy. She appears to be disoriented and not sure what's happening. The only other person is a young man in the house. Therefore, I concluded the young man must have assaulted her. It all fits. The young man was flapping his hands, not looking at us, not speaking to us, and when we read his Miranda rights, he got cocky and recited them himself. Therefore, I figured he has to be the perpetrator."

"Sergeant, what physical evidence did you collect from the scene?"

"Well, uh, uh," he sputters. I'm beginning to fume. This bafoon didn't even bother to collect anything that would even link Jacob forensically with the crime. "Nothing, I guess."

Jacob finds the pad and hurriedly scrawls "I didn't know he didn't collect any forensic evidence. I knew he didn't know how to do his job."

I nod.

"So, all your evidence is circumstantial?"

"I guess."

"Good enough."

This lady didn't even bother to care there wasn't physical evidence? What on earth is our criminal justice system coming to?

"I recommend that Jacob Hunt be held in jail until his trial."

At that moment, Jennifer rises and walks to the podium.

"Sergeant, you say there was no physical evidence linking Jacob Hunt with the alleged assault?"

"Uhhh, well, uhh, there was a lady on the floor."

"That's what you consider physical evidence?" Jennifer spits out.

"Well, yes,"

"How did you find the alleged suspect?"

"I already said. Spinning and flapping his hands. He also wouldn't look me in the eye."

"Sergeant, have you ever heard of Asperger's syndrome?"

"Well, uh, I guess not. He was guilty, that's all. There's no reason to blame this incident on a disability that's not even there."

"So, you believe Asperger's syndrome isn't even real?"

"Of course it's not real. If it was real, you'd see it in every doctor's office. I have kids and take them to the doctor regularly. No one has ever mentioned Asperger's syndrome."

"Could that be, Sergeant, because none of your children actually have the symptoms of the condition?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Answer the question," Judge Jesso snaps.

"Uhhhh, I guess," the sergeant mumbles.

"Nothing further, Your Honor," Jennifer says and walks back to our table.

I'm fuming by this point. The officer doesn't even think Asperger's is real. Lovely. This is just what our criminal justice system needs, officers who don't believe mental health conditions are real conditions. Great. I sigh.

"Anything further, Mrs. Calzone?" the judge asks.

"Nothing further, Your Honor," she says.

"Mrs. Grantham, you may call your first witness."

"I call Annabell Austin to the stand," she says.

I know this is coming as we discussed it before entering the courtroom. Still, it's a shock.

Before I rise, I see another note on the pad. "Good luck."

"Please state your name and address for the record."

"Annabell Austin, 5000 Chocolate Lane."

"Do you have a guest staying with you?"

"Yes, Jacob Hunt is visiting me from Vermont."

"How long has he been here?"

"Objection!" Madeline calls out. "Relevance."

"Overruled."

"He's been here since May 26," I say nervously. Why am I nervous? I've read John Grisham books and should know about this stuff.

"On Thursday night, did you take anti seizure medicine?"

"I did."

"What did Jacob say or do when he saw the medicine?"

"He was surprised that I had seizures. I hadn't told him about the seizures before his visit."

"Then what happened?"

"We went to bed, and I must have had a seizure. I remember this ringing in my ears, which is the aura I have before a seizure. The next thing I know, I'm on the floor. I black out for awhile and then come to."

"What do you remember after coming to?"

"Jacob and a cop were yelling at each other although I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying. I assumed it had to be bad if Jacob was yelling."

"When you were taken to the hospital, what was the diagnosis?"

"I had a grand mal seizure. My physician said it was a good thing I came in when I did since I hadn't had a seizure in 6 years."

"Nothing further from this witness, Your Honor."

Madeline rises to conduct her cross examination.

"So, you had a seizure?" she sneers.

"Yes," I say softly.

"Was this your first seizure?"

"No, I had one in 2006. At that time, my medication was adjusted to what my physician and I felt was a therapeutic dosage."

"What caused the seizure on Thursday night?"

"My doctor believes it was a combination of stress and a breakthrough seizure. He warned me that if I was under too much stress that the electrical impulses in my brain might misfire."

"So, your doctor knew this would happen?

I take a deep breath. How ignorant could this woman get?

"No, ma'am. No one can predict when a breakthrough seizure will happen."

"And you're sure you've taken all of your required doses?"

Inwardly, I fume. Now she's going to question my medication compliance?

"Mrs. Calzone, I have a pill organizer that I fill each week. It's part of my routine to take meds twice a day. It's as part of my routine as brushing one's teeth is for anyone else."

"But, could you have forgotten a dose?"

"I never forget doses."

"What about that time in college when you deliberately forgot doses for a week?"

She found out about that? Who told her? I fume inwardly, but take a deep breath.

"Mrs. Calzone, that was a sign of teenage rebellion. Any teenager would conduct some type of rebellious behavior. It's the way teens test boundaries. They will rebel against an established rule and then learn their lesson. Thus, I rebelled against taking my medication. Once I had the grand mal seizure and was taken to the ER, I learned my lesson. After that episode, I have never missed another dose."

"No further questions, Your Honor," Madeline says.

Jennifer helps me off the witness stand and guides me gently back to our table.

As soon as I sit down, I see a note on the pad, "Why did the prosecutor mention your college experience?"

I write" Because she wants to discredit me as a witness."

"Call your next witness, Counselor."

"The defense calls Dr. Phillip Hopkins to the stand.

Dr. Hopkins enters the courtroom. He has dark brown hair and big brown eyes. He's wearing a gray suit jacket, brown tie, and brown pants that are creased to military precision. He carries a thick file under one arm.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record," Jennifer says.

"Phillip Hopkins, neurologist at Mercy Hospital."

"How long have you been practicing, Doctor?"

"I've been practicing neurology for 25 years."

"Please describe the training you received in the field of neurology."

"I attended medical school at the University of Candyville. I then completed my internship and residency requirements at Boston Memorial Hospital. Finally, I completed a fellowship in neurology at Highland General Hospital in New York City."

"Have you published any articles?"

"I've published several articles regarding the correlation of stress to the frequency of seizures in individuals diagnosed with epilepsy. These articles have all been published in the Annals of Neurology."

"Your Honor, I submit to the court that Dr. Phillip Hopkins is an expert in the field of neurology."

"No objection," Madeline says.

"Please describe Annabell's history of seizures," Jennifer continues.

"In 1995, she was diagnosed with a seizure disorder after having 2 seizures. She was placed on Tegretol in April of that year. Her seizure control has been very good until 2006 when she suffered 2 breakthrough seizures a week apart. After the seizures in 2006, her medication dosage was increased."

"How long has she been taking her present dosage?"

"Prior to Thursday night, she was on 800 MG of Tegretol from August of 2006. After the breakthrough seizure of Thursday night, her dosage was increased to 1200 MG."

"Can you tell the court what caused the seizure on Thursday night?"

"Not specifically. I suspect it was a combination of stress and not enough medication in her system."

Nothing further, Your Honor."

Madeline rises and walks to the podium.

"Doctor, you testified that Annabell's seizures are under good control. Why, then, did she have the seizure on Thursday night? I'd say that's not good control."

"Mrs. Calzone, there is always the possibility that a patient will suffer a breakthrough seizure, even with good control from medication. Breakthrough seizures can be precipitated by a number of factors such as stress, heat, or a lower threshold of medication in the patient's system."

"Doctor, can you tell this court exactly what caused Annabell's seizure?"

"I can only speculate. My best guess is Annabell was under a significant amount of stress. Stress will often times negate the effects of anti seizure medications."

"What caused her stress?"

"Ma'am, I can't answer that question. I don't know everything she's experiencing in her life at this time."

"Doctor, could Jacob have caused her seizure because of his Asperger's? I know people who interact with individuals with Asperger's often times are under greater stress."

"Objection," Jennifer calls. "The witness can only answer what he knows."

"Sustained. You're out of line, Mrs. Calzone."

"I'll withdraw the question, Your Honor."

I fume when I hear this.

"Nothing further, Your Honor."

"Mrs. Grantham, do you have any redirect?"

"The defense has nothing further, Your Honor."

"I see no reason why Jacob Hunt should be kept in the custody of the Chocolate County Jail. There is no convincing evidence that a crime was committed by the defendant. All charges of assault will be dropped at this time."

She turns and smiles at Jennifer.

"Sergeant Olaf Sven, please rise."

I see the sergeant slowly get to his feet. He's nervous and uneasy although he tries to appear confident.

"Sergeant, I've spoken to your supervisor and we've agreed that you're not fit to be on the Candyville police force. In addition, I'm charging you with discrimination of an individual with a disability. You may not return to work until further notice. I will meet with you and your supervisor to determine a plan of action at a later date."

She rises and leaves the courtroom.

"We won!" I whisper to Jacob.


	41. Chapter 41

**Jacob**

As the testimony is progressing, I'm getting nervous. What if the judge thinks that a crime was committed? Then she'll have me put back into jail until the trial. I don't want to return to that place.

Then I hear the judge speak.

"I see no reason why Jacob Hunt should be kept in the custody of the Chocolate County Jail. There is no convincing evidence that a crime was committed by the defendant. All charges of assault will be dropped at this time."

Jennifer is hugging Annabell, and they are both crying. Why would they be crying if it's something happy? I'll never understand neurotypical people and their emotions.


	42. Chapter 42

**Annabell**

After the judge delivers her verdict, I'm stunned. I sit there with tears running down my face. Jennifer is crying as well. Jacob passes me a note although with the tears, I won't be able to read it. I quickly dab at my eyes with a tissue and read the note.

"Thank you for what you've done."

I hug Jacob gently and tell him that it wasn't me. It was Jennifer who did it.

After the judge adjourns court, we gather our things together and prepare to leave. As we're milling about in the lobby, Kerry comes up to me. He asks me a few more questions. After the interview, we head out into the sunshine.


	43. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The rest of Jacob's visit passed with no further incidents. A month later, I get an e-mail from him telling me that he's been accepted at the University of New Haven, Henry C. Lee College of Criminology. He'll be just fine from now on. I'm sure of it.

4 years go by with contact between Jacob and me. I open my mail one day to see an invitation to a graduation party in New Haven. I immediately fill out the RSVP card saying that of course, I'll attend.

I arrive on the campus and locate the graduation ceremony. Like any graduation ceremony, we have to listen to all the boring speeches before the graduates are called. All I care about are the graduates of the Henry C. Lee College of Criminology.

"And now, presenting the valedictorian of the class of 2016, Jacob Hunt!" the announcer booms.

Jacob never told me he received the highest GPA in the class of 2016. I'm stunned. Emma and Theo are incredibly proud.

After the graduation ceremony, we rush to the field to find Jacob. He's surrounded by a laughing group of fellow forensic scientists. They are all giddy with joy at being done with 4 years of college. We drive to a quiet restaurant for a post graduation celebration. Jacob is beaming the entire time.

"What's next?"

"Dr. Lee's invited me to teach Forensics 101 to undergrads," He says proudly.

"Oh, Jacob, that's wonderful!"

"Thanks."

"Then what?"

"I've been accepted into the Masters and PhD program in criminology. So, you'll be here again in a few years."

Everyone is incredibly happy and proud of Jacob. All that hard work over the years leading to this. What a moment for all of us.

Years later, I open my mailbox and see a forensic science journal. Jacob's smiling face is looking back at me from the cover. "Dr. Hunt cracks most difficult murder case in America" blazes the headline.

What a perfect end for Jacob.


End file.
